


God damn parker luck

by Destinyandchicken11



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Gen, Peter Parker Whump, Precious Peter Parker, The Raft Prison (Marvel), Wakanda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-03-13 12:17:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 22,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13570431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destinyandchicken11/pseuds/Destinyandchicken11
Summary: Peter wants to go home, Ross want to experiment, and team cap are wondering how a teenager got caught up in this mess.God damn parker luck.





	1. What the Fuck is going on?

**Author's Note:**

> Peter parker is a cinnamon roll who needs to be protected.
> 
> This fic is kind of inspired by Peter and the Jailbirds by beautifullights which I highly, highly recommend but the plot is going to be different.

“Welcome home Mr Parker. We’ve been expecting you.”

 

Fuck Fuck fuckety-fuck Fuck. Well shit. When Peter Parker arrived home from his last day at midtown school before the weekend he expected a lot of things. May welcoming him home, May cooking lasagne to congratulate Peter on his physics test results, May burning said lasagne, May ordering in pizza instead. What he would never in a million years would have expected, was this.

 

May bound to a chair; a man in a black suit with a gun in his hand holding on to her shoulder. Various what looked like government agents with a selection of rather ominous and threatening weapons aiming at him. And least of all General Ross leaning comfortably against an arm of the couch. 

 

What the shit.

 

“Secure him.” Ross commanded almost lazily. Before Peter could react, five agents pounced on him locking his hands and feet in vibranium cuffs and pushing up against a wall so he couldn’t escape. 

 

At the sudden attack on her nephew, May began wrestling against the bonds tying her back and started yelling at no one in particular, “Get the Fuck off him! Get the Fuck of my nephew! You can’t ...” but she was cut off as a small syringe buried itself in her neck knocking her out cold.

 

“Aunt May!” Peter began to scream but a hand clamped firmly over his mouth.

 

“Just a little sedation, calm down. It’ll probably make this bit easier for her.” Ross began, his voice eerily calm. “Now she won’t have to watch her little spider be taken away.”

 

This shit was bad this shit was very bad. Peters internal monologue was overflowing with swear words – some that have made captain America blush – as he registered Ross’ words and looked down at the limp form of his aunt.

 

“Peter Parker,” Ross continued, “you are in direct violation of the sokovia accords section 3 part 12a: all enhanced individuals must be registered underneath the sokovia accords – and section 5 part 21b: all enhanced individuals must receive approval from the panel of governors before doing any vigilante work.”

 

Peter tried to scream, to shout, to yell. No they had this wrong, the accords didn’t apply to him, he was never told he had to sign them, to let his aunt go but no words could leave his mouth. 

 

With a flick of the general’s hand, one guard was given the cue to sedate Peter as well.

 

His ears become muffled, brain dazed, eyelids heavy. No. He had to save aunt May, he had to, he...

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

His senses came back to him one at a time.

 

Outside, slightly muffled voices were hurriedly conversing but peter couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, not until his brain went to back to normal and stopped feeling like mush. In his right ear, there was a sharp ringing that came from where the agents banged his head against the wall.

 

Then, he became aware that his hands had been tied sharply – almost painfully – behind his back and were secured with what he assumed to be vibranium cuffs again. Cool air was pressing against his face, making him shiver slightly in his seat.

 

Then the blood. Blood he could taste in his mouth. Metallic and warm – like it had been sat there a while. Probably from where he’d bitten his tongue by mistake when they took him. How long ago had that even been?

 

Wherever he was, it smelt sort of damp and, well to be honest not much else. Not even his sharper-than-usual senses could pick out anything in particular. He was probably underground.

 

Lastly, he managed to crack one of his heavy eyelids open a cast a glance at the room he was trapped in. Not that it was a lot of use though. The room was pretty much dark with one dim light shining (if that word could even be used to describe the dismal amount of light it let off) and a wooden table in front of him. Empty.

 

What the Fuck was going on?

 

Desperate to find some clue, some sign as to where they had placed him, he began frantically twisting and turning, trying to escape, but to no avail. The cuffs held tight. He had so many questionsand so little answers. Where exactly was he? What did they do to Aunt May? Was it still even Friday? How long had he been there? 

 

Then he heard them.

 

Footsteps. They got closer. Each one precise and consistent. Closer. 

 

The door creaked open behind him and slammed to a shut. The footsteps stopped and a cold yet familiar voice began.

 

“I see you’re awake Mr Parker. Or would you prefer me to call you spider-man?”

 

Shit.


	2. Rule one

Ross walked towards the desk, hands behind his back and taking slow and heavy steps. Perching on the edge of the desk, he stared cold, hard, and piercing into Peters eyes. Peter stared right back, spitting the warm blood out of his mouth and onto the floor.

 

The general let out a small, humourless chuckle at his attempt to appear menacing. The silent staring match continued for what felt like hours to Peter, but in reality could only have been no more than two minutes.

 

“Fascinating,” Ross almost whispered, “that should’ve been enough to knock you out for at least a couple more hours but here we are. What are you?”

 

Peter had so many questions he needed answering but one was burning prominently at the forefront of his mind. “where’s my Aunt? What did you do to her?” He was surprised at how steady his own voice sounded but his breath was coming in heavy bursts whilst trying to contain his anger.

 

“Calm down.” Ross chided a sly smirk beginning to twitch at the corners of his mouth. “she’s safe for now. Provided, of course, you and I make a little arrangement.”

 

Peter said nothing. If he opened his mouth, he felt he might break down completely. Hot anger threatening to break free and make him do something he would probably regret later. Not while May was in danger. There were few things left in his life he was willing to risk and May was absolutely one of them.

 

Ross studied Peter for a moment as if expecting a witty response and appeared almost surprised by the silence. He let out an small sigh – as if contemplating his next move – before standing up straight and idly beginning to wonder around the room and behind the chair Peter was still tied to.

 

“The great spider-man, vigilante super hero of New York City, no more than a teenager. I’ll be honest, that surprised me – and not many things do. My question is why. Why do you run around the city pretending to be some sort of hero; you’re just an attention seeking teenager. Just another boy with a tragic back story, couldn’t save his parents, couldn’t save his Uncle, can’t save himself. I know your kind, thinking they can actually make a difference. Give up kid.”

 

“If you have the power to stop something bad from happening, you have the duty to.” Peter couldn’t stop the angry flow of words erupting like a volcano. “The people needed a hero, someone to look after the little guy; someone to make sure that their children, and their parents, and their siblings make it home at the end of the day.”

 

“I stop people living through what I’ve had to suffer. And guess what? I’ve already made a difference. How many lives do you think I’ve made a difference to? How many people do you think I’ve saved? I help people, don’t you wonder why people never say the same about you. I’m really not sure what else you want me to say.”

 

The pair sat in almost silence for an eternity that was compressed into a mere matter of minutes, the only sounds angry and harsh pants of breath following Peter’s outburst, and fragments of muffled conversations from outside the door – oblivious to the harsh words exchanged only moments before.

 

“I’m going to give you choice Peter,” Ross began, leaning against the desk again and staring the teen directly in the eye. “you’re going to go willing go to the raft and allow us to use your body and your abilities to experiment and further understand the human body, maybe save some lives whilst we’re at it. Or,” his face twisted into a sick smile that ended up looking more like a grimace, “your going to put up a fight,” Ross leaned forward pressing his mouth next to Peter’s ear, “ and we’re going to do the exact same damn thing anyway.”

 

Stepping backwards, he pressed what appeared to be a small button hidden under his desk. “Mull it over, spider-man.” He spat out the last word like it was foul tasting. At his command twenty armed guards rushed into the now cramped room and he felt a small prick at his neck. Warm liquid began to pulse through his veins and his eye lids felt heavy and limbs numb.

 

As he was losing his battle with consciousness, he thought about Aunt May. About how much he loved her and wanted to keep her safe. About how she was probably at that very moment going out of her mind with worry. About the rules she had set out to follow when she found out about his late night vigilante activities.

 

Rule one: Homework and school comes first. ALWAYS!

 

Sorry May, but I don’t think I’ll be doing my homework for a very long time.

 

The world went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What the hell you guys? You're all so damn nice about this! Every single one of your comments made my day and I had some spare time today on a bus ride so I decided to write another chapter. (But seriously don't start expecting daily updates, there isn't enough time in the day for that.)
> 
> Please comment and tell me what you liked, what you thought I could do better, and what you want to see happen.
> 
> Jenna : )


	3. Welcome to hell

“Shut up dude, the kids about to wake up.”

 

“Can you hear me kid?”

 

Muffled voices faded in and out as he slowly came around. He wanted to reply, wanted to find out where the hell he was now, to check for immediate threats. But he couldn’t. He just couldn’t.

 

Tangles of his limbs laid limp and lifeless, sprawled on the cold ground around him; his eyelids felt so damn heavy, refusing to open no matter how much he willed them to. He wasn’t sure how long he lay there, without the energy he desperately needed to satisfy his curiosity and explore his surroundings, to at least open his eyes.

 

Voices around him zoned in and out and were muffled, as if underwater. Time had slowed down. He would have been content to lay there, undisturbed, peaceful, but a sharp tingling at the base of his neck gave him other ideas, as though warning him of danger.

 

There was nothing peaceful about where he was – that he could sense.

 

Using the force of sheer willpower, he cracked his eyelids open slowly before cautiously working his way into a sitting position and placing a hand on his forehead, wincing at the ache he felt in his skull.

 

“Good morning sleeping beauty, welcome to your first day in hell.”

 

“Shut up Barton.” Peter couldn’t see straight and his vision was swimming but he was sure he recognised that voice, it felt familiar and that in itself was almost comforting. “Hey kid are you alright,” he continued in a much softer tone, “Do you know where you are?”

 

Blinking rapidly, he forced his eyes to focus on the man speaking to him from the opposite side of the room. Then he saw the bars. Horizontal and encased in what looked like some form of reinforced glass, locking him in the small cell he had woken up in. Turning his attention back to the man, Peter noticed that he too was caged in an identical cell, directly opposite him.

 

As Peters vision re-focused, he saw the man who had spoken to him. He appeared dark-skinned and fairly tall as he was stood at the edge of his own cell looking down on Peter with concerned eyes. That face – he was sure he recognised it. In his minds eye, Peter pictured the voice and face together, trying to work out who this almost-stranger was.

 

Then it clicked.

 

With a short, involuntary intake of breath, Peter knew. Falcon. This was the man Peter had webbed to the ground at that airport in Germany, had fought against, had – to be honest - completely forgotten about. He had never even spared a thought to the members of team Cap who didn’t escape.

 

Looking around, he sure enough found the one and only Hawkeye chilling on his bed staring at Peter inquisitively, along with another man who Peter didn’t recognise, leaning against the wall of their cell. On the edge, there was an empty cell, but unlike the other deserted ones, looked slightly unkempt, as though someone had been in there until fairly recently.

 

“kid?” Falcon prompted at the kids shocked appearance.

 

Remembering he had been asked a question Peter mumbled a quick “yeah I’m fine” and slowly stood up, leaning slightly against the wall to get a better look at where he was exactly, and who he was with. Stuttering slightly, Peter began, “you’re the avengers, I don’t – I don’t understand, what are you doing here?”

 

The third man who Peter didn’t recognise stood up and paced towards the front of his cell. He smiled. “Hi, I’m Scott. Welcome to the raft prison dude. Turns out we’re actually criminals now so...”

 

“You can call me Sam, and this fine fellow you can call Clint, or shit head if you prefer – we all do.”

 

“Hey watch your language Samuel” Clint mocked, “are you sure the kid is even old enough to swear. Jeez, how old are you anyway kid?”

 

Peter let out a small Indignant huff before replying. “old enough to be locked in her apparently.”

 

“Are you sure about that?” Sam replied, “what’s your name dude? And what the hell are you in here for?”

 

“Does the word ‘spider-man’ answer your question.” Peter answered, grinning slightly. This revelation was followed by a chorus of “shit” and “No way”, especially by the man called Scott who appeared particularly concerned about the fact that he was so young.

 

“You mean you’re the dude I knocked out the sky, a teenager. I could’ve killed you – I could’ve killed a kid.” The man began muttering. That made a lot more sense, he was the dude in the suit that turned into that giant guy. What was it they called him? Ant-man? That didn’t really make sense for a giant know that he thought about it. Maybe it was meant to be ironic?

 

“So what, your parents christened you spider-man?” Clint remarked, “come on dude what’s your actual name?”

 

Peter shook his head, “sorry man. No can do, I’ve got a secret identity to maintain, family to protect.”

 

Clint snorted at this, “Well good luck with that, because we’re all you got right about now, well that and Wanda whenever they let her back. Plus how secret can it really be if Ross found you.” 

 

Peter was lost for words at that and looked down at his shoes. That’s right. No one was safe, they knew who he was. Not May, not Ned, not MJ.

 

“Shut up Barton.” Sam sighed. “this is why we call you shit head. Give the boy some credit. He kicked all our asses in Germany and they clearly deem him important enough to give him one of those collars.”

 

The conversation continued around him – “Hey, he kicked your ass in Germany, my ass remained gloriously un-kicked.” – but Peter wasn’t listening anymore. He brought his hands towards his neck and audibly gasped when they grazed the cool metal.

 

In his initial half dazed assessment, he had failed to notice the heavy collar situated around his neck until it had been brought up, but now he was aware of it, he couldn’t think of anything else. Choking, suffocating, drowning under the collars heavy influence, he clawed at it trying to release it, wanting urgently to be able to breathe again, but his fingers were clumsy and his mind frantic.

 

Upon noticing the struggle, all three of men turned to face the panicking teenager and began cries of “no”, “stop”, and “seriously you don’t want to set it off”. Sam pressed his face against the walls of his own cell and calmly looked Peter in the eye.

 

“Calm down kid,” he began softly, “look at me, nice and steady okay. Focusing on breathing with me, yeah. In out, in out, gently that’s it.”

 

The panic slowly started to ebb from Peter as he found himself syncing with Sam to take slower, deeper breaths, allowing him to breathe freely again. 

 

Slowly, Peter slumped to the floor of his cell and stared straight ahead at the wall. He muttered breathlessly, “16. I just turned 16.”

 

Silence.

 

And then a singular whispered word. “shit.”

 

Rule 2: leave anything too big to handle to the avengers.

 

That one was almost ironic now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been over a week! Time has just slipped away from me and before I knew it I should've uploaded again. Your continued support means the world to me and every comment I get makes it feel like Christmas. 
> 
> Please keep commenting because they inspire me to write more and I'm making it my mission to reply to every single one because they mean so much to me.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, Jenna : )


	4. The wanda-rer returns

“Dan?”

 

“No.”

 

“Joe?”

 

“No.”

 

“Chris?”

 

“Shut the hell up!” Scott grumbled effectively putting an end to the conversation that had been going on for at least ten minutes now, in which Sam and Clint would alternate trying to guess their new cell mates name. “some of us are trying to sleep.”

 

“But pant-man you’re always trying to sleep!” Clint said, almost whining.

 

“I like sleep. Sleep is good. Sleep makes me happy.” With sudden realisation, he shot up from the bed he was lying on. “wait what did you just call me?”

 

“Why won’t you just tell us?” Sam questioned.

 

“Because when we get out of here,” and we will get out of here, Peter thought with unwavering determination “I have a secret identity that I intend to keep.”

 

Clint snorted. He’d been trapped in there for too long to keep up any sense of false hope that any day now someone would storm through that door and rescue them. Not to say someone hadn’t tried. Not long after they had first arrived, Steve had tried to get them out but taking on the highest security prison in the world isn’t exactly easy for one man to accomplish – even a supersoldier.

 

Sam shot the archer a disproving glare. The kid had lost everything when thrown in here, Sam wasn’t about to let him lose his hope to.

 

“OK well let’s just back track a second. Pant-man? Seriously Barton, where did that even come from? It’s not like there’s anything particularly special about my -”

 

His short ramble was abruptly cut off by the loud opening of a heavy door. Footsteps marched through and Peter pressed his face up against his cell and craned his neck, desperate to get a better look at what was going on outside.

 

Dozens of armed guards marched a girl - who appeared to be tied up in a straight jacket and in a similar collar to the one Peter was wearing – towards the empty but dishevelled cell at the end. Her feet were dragging along the floor and most of her weight was being carried by the guards.

 

They threw her in the cell making sure it was locked before heading back out again – one casting a nasty glance at Peter on their way.

 

The girl was left slumped against the wall, propped up by her knees and was shaking and quivering on the floor. Her head was turned towards the others and her eyes had a glazed sort of look as though she was trapped somewhere dark inside her mind and hadn’t comprehended where she was. There were dark circles under her eyes and her face was a pale pallor that looked eerily unnatural. She looked exhausted and scared. Frankly terrified.

 

Sam pressed his hands against the glass and calmly but loud enough for her to hear, tentatively asked, “Wanda?” attempting to bring her back to herself.   
Wait, Wanda? He thought to himself. Oh my God that was the scarlet witch. He wanted to shout and jump onto the ceiling; the actual scarlet witch! This should’ve been one of the best days so of his whole damn life.

 

Except it wasn’t. Because looking back at that frightened girl, shaking on the floor he realised: if they could do that to one of the most powerful people on the planet, what the hell were they going to do to him?

 

•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●

 

After some gentle coaxing on Sam’s part, Wanda had finally stopped visibly shaking and her eyes looked a little less clouded although she still hadn’t really shown any recognition of being back in her cell. Promptly after, she had fallen into a deep sleep which she looked like she had desperately needed.

 

The boys had been sat in peaceful yet comfortable silence, broken only by slight hitches of breath in Wanda’s sleep, for fear of waking the exhausted girl. It was three and a quarter hours later when she finally awoke.

 

She sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes gently and stretching her back from the uncomfortable position she had taken up on the floor as she slept. Her bleary eyes trailed round the room and she faintly smiled at each of them but did a double take when she reached Peter.

 

Her eyes went wide with shock so he hesitantly flashed a smile at her. “who is this?” she asked confusedly addressing the others in the room.

 

“Wouldn’t we like to know.” Clint muttered under his breath but this only seemed to add to her confusion.  
Scott sighed before replying, “Wanda, meet spider-man. Spider-man meet Wanda.” Peter gave a little wave in acknowledgement.

 

“Are you sure he is a spider-man?” She asked smirking but there was a hint of underlying concern in her voice. “He looks more like a spider-boy to me.”

 

Peter cursed his baby face. If he just looked slightly older like some of the boys at his school maybe he wouldn’t have this problem.

 

“Spider-boy is about right.” Sam began casting an exasperated glance at Peter like it was his own fault he was locked up here. “The kids sixteen.”

 

Wanda gasped then began muttering under her breath in either something he couldn’t hear properly or was more likely in a language he didn’t understand (his hearing was impeccable).

 

“that’s not right” she tutted. Scott gave a grunt of approval and Peter cast his eyes towards the floor sighing deeply and resting the back of his head against the wall.

 

He sensed it first. A tingling began at the base of his neck working it’s way down his spine and making every nerve in his body tense and ready to spring into action at a moments notice. It was the same feeling he got when he ran into trouble patrolling, or when things were about to get particularly difficult during a mission, like someone was watching him or something was coming. He could sense the danger but he didn’t know what it was.

 

He got to his feet abruptly in his small cell and started to turn around desperate for a sound, a sign as to what was about to come. This earned the him a few strange glares from the others and Clint began to ask, exasperated, “kid, what the hell are you-” but he was cut off by Peter shushing him and bringing a finger to his lips.

 

Then he heard it, the quiet patter of footsteps, growing louder every second. The clicks of guns as they rattled against their sides. Dozens of footsteps getting nearer.  
The others began to hear it as they got terrifyingly close to where he was stood as the door creaked open again, and armed guards marched in professionally.   
Everyone watched on silently, each wondering who the unlucky one was this time praying that it wasn’t them but on the other hand silently hoping it was so that their friends would be alright.

 

They stopped. Right in front of Peter’s door.   
Fear paralysed him to the spot and his breathing became heavy and laboured, trying his hardest not to panic. The soldiers opened his door, guns trained at his face as Peter put his hands behind his head, slowly so as not to scare them into doing something they’d regret.

 

All it would take was a slip of a finger and he would be brains splatted on the wall. 

 

A woman came forward carrying an amber filled syringe and at the terrifying prospect of being knocked out again, Peter took a sharp step back. He realised he had made a mistake as the guns all clicked again making him realise that he really didn’t have a choice but to wave goodbye to his consciousness yet again.   
The syringe was plunged deep into his neck and he felt the familiar feeling of his eyes becoming heavy and feet stumbling but after that, nothing else. They had definitely made it stronger this time.

 

With one last look towards the others who had their hands pressed against the glass with worry, Peter closed his eyes and the world around him went dark.

 

This was not going to end well for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm super happy with all of the comments and support you guys have all been leaving with special shoutouts to: spidrman, Daidaiiro, Audsome6082, Mj, ouch, 4tori, Just_Havoc, Racheycar123, and delphinium2222.
> 
> All of the kudos is making me really happy and I hope you're all still enjoying this.
> 
> Jenna : )


	5. can't wait to go home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, i don't like this chapter...

The phone rang. Turning down the blasting music in the lab, Tony scooted over to the phone to see who was calling him at this early hour in the morning. It wasn’t uncommon for him to be up this early, he often lost track of time in the lab and only really fell asleep when he was passed out because of exhaustion, especially as there was hardly anyone left now to remind him to go to bed.

 

It was however, uncommon for anyone else to be awake at this hour and calling him. Ordinarily, he was a busy man but not necessarily at 3:30 am. With a quick glance at the caller ID, he saw it was May Parker. 

 

After the incident with the vulture, Peter and Tony had become a lot closer; Peter would visit the compound at the weekend to train (at May’s insistence he had some basic technique), Tony would spend some time in the lab with him – helping to develop his suit and web fluids, and most Wednesdays, Peter and May would both stay for dinner with Tony and Pepper – as well as any other avengers who just so happened to be there.

 

He he felt positively overflowing with guilt at the thought that he had taken this kid out of his everyday teenager life, used him to help fight a war that he should never have been a part of, stuck a great big target on his back, and then told him to go back to his normal life and basically ignored him for months on end until he was in mortal danger and then even saved Tony’s ass by bringing down that plane. Tony was going some way towards repaying him and making up for lost time.

 

The more time he spent with Peter though, meant the more time he spent with May. She hated him, and it wasn’t something she tried to hide. In a way, Tony couldn’t blame her. It was partly because of him that her beloved nephew kept putting himself in mortal danger, and it was him that gave Peter the suit, and him who gave Peter some of these reckless ideas.

 

But on the other hand, she was thankful. Thankful that Peter had someone he knew he could trust – God knows he needed some of those, thankful there was someone who could help Peter out if he got into trouble on patrol, thankful there was someone else looking out for her boy.

 

Two people who had every reason to hate each other brought together by Peter parker.

 

As it turns out, Peter was probably why she was calling. As he saw the time flash up on his phone, Tony instinctively yawned realising he should probably head to bed after this, but all traces of weariness were wiped from his system the moment he heard the panic radiating in May’s voice. Before Stark had even had the chance to say hello, she was talking.

 

“Oh my God Tony they took him, I’ve only just woken up, but they came in to the house and now they’ve took him and I don’t know what to –”

 

“Calm down,” Tony began and was surprised at how level his own voice sounded given the situation. “what’s going on May, who took him?”

 

“I-I don’t… erm, wait, I think he called himself General Ross.”

 

Tony didn’t say a word but sighed deeply.

 

Shit.

 

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

 

Peter’s head was pounding as he slowly came back to his senses.

 

There were harsh white lights glaring over head and a steady beeping to his left. The thick scent of disinfectant hung in the air and attacked his sensitive nose, making him cough harshly. As he tried to bring his hands up to cover his face, he found that they were uncomfortably bound by his sides with a cool metal that was probably more vibranium again.

 

As his eyes came to focus, he noticed many personnel in white coats rushing arounds the room with clipboards and fiddling with an assortment of medical equipment and a variety of drugs. Gently turning his head, there was a large stand with a container attached that was filling up with blood that – he realised with horror – was his own.

 

A bright white light, harsh and intrusive flooded his vision as a female voice from behind him spoke, “test subject S has awoken 45 minutes after being injected with serum xs-8.” Doctors around her started to take notes on what she was saying. “A test investigating the effects of blood loss on subject S has begun so he needs to be under constant observation with vitals being recorded.”

 

Blood loss. That didn’t sound good at all. He had never had any really dangerous encounters with blood loss before. Well, there was a couple of close calls involving some bullet and stab wounds but other than that.

 

For fifteen minutes, Peter lay strapped to that table as he felt the life beginning to drain from him, the doctors calling out seemingly random numbers and letters that had no meaning to him. The longer he lay there, the more he felt his eyes begin to close and body begin to tremble.

 

All of a sudden, the room soon began to drop a few degrees and he was shaking uncontrollably. People were swimming in and out of focus around him and sounds came in short bursts, like he was trapped under water but occasionally his head broke the surface and he could hear again. 

 

The tension in the room physically grew as people began to stare, visible excitement in the eyes of some as an unknown voice shouted, “3 litres? This is incredible! His healing factor is amazing; the blood is replenishing faster than I even thought possible. Keep going.”

 

No, peter thought. No. His healing factor was good, not invincible. Oh God this was going to kill him; they were going to kill him. All of the genetically mutated psychopaths he had fought, all of the strange creatures he had helped Tony destroy, all of the thieves wielding super powered alien tech, muggers and rapists on the streets of Queens, a war against half of the freaking avengers, and this was how he was going to die. Strapped to a table, utterly defenceless, and completely alone.

 

This was it he, was sure.

 

The heart monitor was beeping increasingly frequently, his thoughts were a jumbled mess of May and Tony, Ned and MJ, what he wouldn’t give to not be so alone right now.

 

The beeping stopped.

 

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

 

Chatter. The small murmur of voices around him probably talking about meaningless, inconsequential things that shouldn’t probably be of interest to Peter. Nevertheless, it seemed to pique his interest because pointless chatter, no matter how stupid it was, wasn’t a sound that Peter expected to hear again. Ever.

He thought for sure that he was dead. Gone for good. Yet, here he was. 

 

Without even opening his eyes, he recognised the voices immediately as those of Clint, Wanda, Sam, and Scott. Besides, he wasn’t sure he could open his eyes even if he wanted to. He felt knackered, exhausted, drained. 

 

He wouldn’t even begin to attempt to sit up. Mustering up the strength, he made his face twitch slightly and moved his hand so he could rest his head on it. The floor was hard.

 

The movement caught the attention of Scott who gestured to the others that he was awake. Maybe they were trying to talk to him, but Peter couldn’t find the energy to listen.

 

Content with blocking out the world, just for a bit, Peter thought. On the one hand, he was glad to be out of the immediate danger of the medical room and back with the friendly company of the others, but on the other hand, he was a little put out at the thought that he would probably have to go back again in the morning in addition to the crippling realisation that he was still God damn here, in this cramped cell with these people who were not really more than strangers a couple of days ago.

 

No one had got him out. Maybe nobody ever would. Maybe he would be trapped here for-

 

He stopped himself. He really couldn’t afford to think like that now. Tony was coming for him. He was. It had only been a couple of days, of course he wasn’t out yet. A little patience would be required for the time being, but eventually he would get out. He would.

 

A few days more he could manage. 

 

Anyway, how much worse could this possibly get?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for all of your continued love and support of this. It means so much to me.
> 
> question time - who is your favourite avenger/marvel character in general? (just because i'm curious tbh.) Answers in comments.


	6. Peter. Peter Parker.

As it turned out things could get worse. A lot worse.

 

Hours would slip away completely unnoticed, which turned into days of the same vicious cycle trapped in this hell hole. Everyday felt the same, as though he was trapped in some twisted form of groundhog day.

 

Every morning, they’d wake him and the others up with a shrill ring that served as some sort of alarm, startling him into consciousness. Then they would appear one by one – guards marching through the door (the amount of security bordering on ridiculous) – and would take the prisoners down several flights of stairs where they would shower and wash under constant supervision. There was no real respect for privacy except for a thin curtain.

 

Then, a tasteless breakfast of an oat concoction washed down with water, and a morning of talking amongst themselves. It wasn’t the most appetising thing he’d ever had but at the end of the day, it wasn’t poisonous and it was worth it to keep his huge super powered teenager metabolism at bay.

 

For a group of superheroes locked under water in the highest security prison in the world, the atmosphere wasn’t actually too drab.

 

The five of them would frequently talk animatedly and enthusiastically about random topics of conversation that would jump from one thing to another; anything they could discuss about to keep their minds of where they were. 

 

Wanda talked of Sokovia, tales from her childhood and of her brother Pietro. From the sounds of it, he didn’t seem that different from Peter. Perhaps that was one of the reasons she seemed to have attached to him so quickly. That and she appeared to be the youngest there (except for Peter). Despite the two growing up in different cultures, it appeared they had a lot in common.

 

Most of the time however, she appeared to be distanced from the rest of the group. Often her eyes would haze and she would appear numb and lost in her own thoughts. This look became increasingly common for the hours that followed after she was returned to her cell.

 

They didn’t take her out as regularly, but she was always gone a lot longer than any one else. From what Peter could gather, she was a very sweet but also strong willed girl, he couldn’t begin to imagine why anyone would enjoy hurting her – or any of them for that matter.

 

In the time they had to spare, she had attempted to teach them some Sokovian, but that had ended abruptly and painfully. Turns out the big bosses didn’t like the idea of them having another way to communicate that they couldn’t understand, so they had shocked her. Sent powerful spikes of electricity from her collar into her body, until she twitched and writhed in agony and was reduced to a sobbing heap on the floor.

 

They hadn’t tried again after that.

 

Scott also seemed to be strangely caring towards him. One morning, he told Peter about his daughter – Cassie – who he couldn’t wait to see again. 

 

“ I bet you’re parents are going crazy worrying about you right now. If my Cassie was ever in a place like this, I don’t know what I’d do. She means the world to me.”

 

“Actually I live with my Aunt. My parents died when I was very young and I was brought up by my Aunt and Uncle. He died a couple of years ago though, so now it’s just me and her. I hate the idea of her being alone. She’s lost everything, I won’t let her lose me to.”

 

“I bet she loves you more than life itself. More than you’d ever know. I know I love my girl.”

 

“Oh she does. I just hope she knows that the feeling’s mutual.”

 

Sam was a kind person from what Peter had gathered. He was a caring soul who was always the first to make sure that everyone was okay – well as okay as it was possible to be under those circumstances – and was the first to try and help calm down from a nightmare or panic attack, or to help Wanda come out of the shell she sometimes got trapped in. 

 

He acted as sort of a mother hen to all of them, and all though Peter may have once considered this annoying, it felt nice to know now that there was someone watching out for him when he needed it. He wasn’t just a dumb teenager, he treated him like he was part of the team.

 

Clint had been a little harder to figure out at first. He didn’t seem to have the gentle, caring nature nor the instinct to protect him like a little brother or son. But Peter knew he still cared.

 

Admittedly, it was more often than not hidden under layers of dry humour and sarcasm, but occasionally, a concerned eye brow or second glance at someone when he thought no one was looking showed he was actually, deep-down concerned about the welfare of his friends. He even seemed to develop a fondness for Peter.

 

In all honesty, it was damn near impossible to hate the kid. With his over-active body that could never sit skill and his eagerness to please and impress others, he had an very positive impact on the welfare of the group.

 

He would often find himself doing all sorts of flips and tricks with his body – including standing on the ceiling – much to the amusement of others who would either smile brightly at his antics or share a secret chuckle with themselves when he timed a flip wrong and landed on his face. No matter what he always got back up.

 

As it turns out, it was very easy to fall in love with Peter Parker.

 

That only made the pain of seeing him be taken away so much harder.

 

It was at the same time every day. They’d bring the others some kind of lunch before trudging him down to the same lab and testing room every time. At first they ran various forms of tests that recorded how well his body worked under various conditions (sustained strenuous activity, flexibility, blood loss, food deprivation), in addition to taking many samples of blood and tissue. But what they had moved onto just seemed like pure torture.

 

They had called it ‘testing the boundaries of the bite’ but Peter really didn’t see why the boundaries needed to be tested. On today’s menu: electrocution. The question on everyone’s lips: exactly how many watts of electricity could the famous spider man take coursing through his body. The answer was probably less than they’d have liked.

 

It started of small. Little shocks of 5 milliamps that delivered small shocks, barely tickling let alone causing any actual pain. 50 milliamps was when the pain started, sharp shocks that caused him to move involuntarily and momentarily take away his breath.

 

At 1 Amp, it burned. His body would spasm painfully of the table causing him to scream and writhe in agony as he could feel the loud heart beat in his chest beating irregularly pushing him to the brink of unconsciousness only to cruelly bring him back. White paint flaring in his eyelids, blinding him, choking him, drowning him in the pain that never seemed to end.  
He truly didn’t know how long this continued for, nor did he particularly want to. All Peter remembered afterwards was waking up on the cold floor of his cell – which was how he tended to come around after they took him.

 

This time when he looked around, Wanda, Sam, and Scott were all sleeping peacefully. Clint was sat leaning against the wall throwing and catching something. He turned his head when Peter stirred and nodded his head in acknowledgement as he said, “you okay kid?”   
Peter nodded his head but felt a bit queasy in doing so. Clint gestured to the food that had been placed at the foot of Peter’s bed to be sure he remembered to eat it before joining the others and getting into his bed.

 

Once alone, Peter sighed heavily placing a hand on his forehead and leaning against the wall. His legs began to feel like jelly and his stomach twisted as a result of the electricity that was coursing through him earlier.  
He stumbled over his feet as he slumped down on the bed, head in hands. Settling the plate of dry food in his lap, his stomach protested at the thought of having to put anything in his delicate stomach.

 

Peter chewed slowly, shovelling food into his mouth a piece at a time in a consistent rhythm without really thinking about what he was doing. The consequences of not eating anything now would affect him worse tomorrow as his hyper metabolism would take its toll. He was very hungry.

 

After finishing his meal for the night, he flopped down on his bed and exhaled long and slowly. Drunk with fatigue, his eyes slipped closed and he fell quickly to sleep.

 

Pain. White and blinding. Consuming his entire body, warping his mind and paralysing his muscle. Convulsing his body in spasms of pain that smacked down against the table again and again.  
Hot tears slipped down his face, interrupted by cries of agony piercing the air-

 

“-id, kid! Come on dude, wake up!”  
Peter woke up with a start, heavy pants punctuated by small sobs, hot tears sliding down his face.

 

They were all looking at him, anxious faces pressed against the glass. He thought Maybe Sam was trying to talk to him but he could hear nothing except for the pounding of his heart in his ears.

 

He took long deep breaths in an effort to slow his heart rate down and calm the panic welling in his chest. Exhaling, he pressed the back of his head against the cool wall.

 

“Peter.” He really wasn’t sure what made him say it. Probably the fear the nightmare had caused, the desperation for some kind of comfort – a sense of familiarity that would make this hell feel more like home. “Peter Parker.” He ran a hand over his face as an attempt to try and quell some of the tears slipping down his face.

 

Sam and Clint shared a knowing look. On the one hand, they were glad they finally knew the kid’s name but on the other hand, it also meant that he had given up on keeping his secret identity – he was losing hope that they’d make it out.

 

“Get some sleep Pete,” Sam said, “it will feel better in the morning.”

 

God how Peter hoped he was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally haven't been through and checked for anything spelling/grammar wise because I'm way too tired but I might do it tomorrow or something. Did lots of research on electrocution though so I'm probably on some government lists by now...
> 
> Thanks for all your kudos and comments. It was fun reading who your fave avengers were.
> 
> Also, check out Audsome6082 who's writing some cool fics on their account.
> 
> Thanks for reading : )


	7. You've never seen high school musical?

“How do you stick to the walls?” Scott asked staring almost in awe at the teenager opposite him. Peter hadn’t managed to fall back asleep after his nightmare the night before, but noticing the others wouldn’t go back to sleep before they knew he was alright, he faked it so they could get some rest. He didn’t want to feel responsible for keeping them up, that wasn’t fair on them.

 

The strange thing was though, Clint didn’t go back to sleep either. He sat silently on his bed, carefully keeping watch over Peter to make sure he was alright.  
It was a strange sort of relationship between them – One that was never put into words. On the one hand, Clint would sometimes appear to be unfazed by the teenager, seemingly hardly noticing he was there, acting like the fact that him and three of his friends were trapped in a maximum security prison for the foreseeable future with an random child was really not that big of a deal. The kind of cool, laid-back attitude Peter could only ever dream of achieving.

 

On the other hand, there were small looks he would give, little tells under his usual calm exterior that would give away the hints of worry and protectiveness he really felt towards the others. The frown of concern etched into his brow whenever Wanda was taken, chewing anxiously at his lips whenever Sam was having a bad day – despite how good he was at hiding it, Clint was evidently protective of his friends, and more recently to a certain Peter Parker.

 

Peter really wasn’t sure what to make of it. Over time, it appeared Peter was growing on them all. It felt nice, knowing there were people he could rely on to keep him sane whilst he was trapped in this hell hole.

 

“But like how does the whole ceiling thing work? Can you stick to anything you want? How is that even possible?”

 

Scott was asking a flurry of questions directed at Peter, who was standing upside down on the roof of his cell slowly spinning around.

 

“I don’t even know dude! It’s crazy. And I think I can stick to anything, I mean it’s never not worked...”  
Clint suddenly perked up, “Does that mean you can recreate Troy in high school musical 3 when he’s dancing as the walls spin round.” 

 

Silence. Four heads whipped round to stare, judgemental and shocked at Clint. “Dude...” Sam whispered softly, shaking his head at Clint but otherwise lost for words. Once again Clint had managed to render them all speechless. 

 

“Will there ever be a day when there’s nothing that will come out of your mouth that can surprise me?” Scott wondered aloud. 

 

Eyes squinting in disbelief, Clint sat up straight and looked around. “So you’re honestly telling me that nobody else here has seen high school musical?” He was met with a chorus of “no” and shaking of heads.

 

“what is high school musical?” Wanda asked inquisitively.

 

“stop,” Clint sighed holding out a hand towards her. “before you say something that will make me very upset. Besides, scream is one of the best songs..."

 

“Bullshit! It has nothing on bet on it.” After realising what he’d said, Scott harshly clamped a hand over his mouth but not before Clint let out a cheer of triumph!

 

“Hey I have a daughter! That’s a perfectly valid reason to have seen the movies!” Scott defended himself.

 

“Yeah but if you’d have only seen them with your daughter, you wouldn’t’ve been embarrassed to admit it, would you?”

 

“Fuck.” Scott cursed going red in the cheeks, only making Clint laugh harder. 

 

“Come on Peter, you must have seen at least one!”

 

“Do I look like an eight year old girl to you?”

 

“Well do we look like eight years old girls?” Clint shot back.

 

“Don’t answer that.” Scott interrupted upon seeing Peter’s mouth widen into a smirk as he came up with a sassy retort.

 

“Dudes, you haven’t lived until you’ve seen the high school musicals! We’re gonna watch them all – back to back, sing along versions. Just you wait.”

 

“Gotta go my own way – I cry everytime.”

 

“Same.”

 

“Crazy, crazy boys.” Wanda muttered under her breath causing them all to chuckle. Peter was still smiling broadly minutes after the conversation had finished.  
Maybe today wasn’t such a bad day after all.

 

•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•

 

Scott and Sam were peacefully passed out on their beds and Wanda had been taken from her cell a couple of hours ago and was yet to return. Peter was pacing – along the walls and roof in addition the floor – in a futile attempt to pass the time and Clint sat watching him at the end of his bed in a sort of amusement.  
Suddenly, Peter flipped of the ceiling and landed gracefully before sitting on the floor facing Clint.   
“I’m losing my mind in here.” Peter began, slightly startling Clint. “I don’t know how you’ve done it for so long.”

 

After a moments silence, Clint replied. “I couldn’t have done it without the others. We’ve literally been keeping each other sane.”

 

“I can see that. But have you ever tried to – I don’t know – escape somehow.”

 

Clint laughed, “kid, we have been trapped in the highest security prison in the world for God knows how long now and you honestly think the plan ‘escape somehow’ hasn’t crossed our minds?”

 

Peter frowned at the floor and Clint felt momentarily guilty that his words had been too harsh. He knew Peter thrived off of approval from others. Besides, he was only trying to be helpful.

 

“Look Pete, we all want to leave just as much as you and if you got a plan, I’m all ears but – but maybe we just need to start accepting the fact that there’s a chance we’re not getting out.” Clint glanced at Peter expectantly but the kid’s eyes were looking the other way.

 

“Okay.” Peter replied shortly. Honestly, that took Clint by surprise. He expected some kind of hope-inspiring speech making reference to fictional characters who showed perseverance in the face of adversity and emerged victorious. Or at least some kind of opposition to his statement declaring that help was coming. A complacent ‘okay’ didn’t seem like Peter at all. His spirit wasn’t dampened easily.

 

“okay?” Clint repeated uneasily. 

 

“okay.” Peter replied. “Okay, I’ve got a plan.” There was the stubborn teenager Clint had grown to know.

 

“Is it a stupid one?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Is it dangerous?”

 

“Incredibly.”

 

“Chances of success?”

 

“Slim to none.”

 

“Are you going to do it anyway?”

 

“Absolutely.”

 

Clint sighed. A long-suffering defeated parent sigh. “Okay Pete, you’re gonna listen to me and you’re gonna listen good. Seriously, if you give them any reason – and I mean any reason to make you’re life a living hell, they’re going to take it. You do one thing out of line and there gonna come down ten times as hard. You think this is bad? They could make this so much worse. Don’t risk it, it’s not worth it.”

 

“So what we just sit here and wait for someone to come rescue us? Newsflash Clint, nobody’s coming. If we’re getting out – and we are getting out – we need to get ourselves out.”

 

“Stop kid you’re messing with things you don’t understand. Just because you want to get out doesn’t mean you can attempt every half baked disaster plan that comes to your mind. Have patience. Otherwise this is going to end up so much worse for you Peter. Nobody wants to see that. Guess what is sucks seeing one of my friends get hurt. And like it or not but for some god damn reason I consider you a friend Peter Parker. So promise me you won’t do anything stupid. Promise me!”

 

Peter rose slowly from his seat in the floor and crawled into his bed, not looking Clint in the eye. “Goodnight. You should get some rest, big day tomorrow.”

 

“Don’t you fucking dare Peter Parker, don’t you fucking dare.”

 

•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•

 

Peter didn’t sleep for a variety of reasons. On the one hand, the last time he had tried to sleep hadn’t ended very well and he dreaded the thought that another nightmare like last night would happen again. 

 

He used to get nightmares a lot of the time as a result of the vulture incident, but those had faded with time as well as with support from some pretty great people including Ned, May, MJ, and even Mr. Stark who he had began to know a lot better. And even when the bad memories did occasionally plague him in the night, he could just hide away under his covers or climb up to the roof where he would stay for a while until he decided he could try to sleep again. But there was no where to hide here. If he didn’t want people to start treating him like a little kid, he couldn’t show them that he still got nightmares. That would definitely lower their respective for him. All in all it seemed a safer option to stay awake.

 

The other reason was because of a strange mixture of fear, anticipation, and excitement. He felt useless just sitting around here, not even trying to make an attempt to escape and bored out of his mind. Clint didn’t know what he was talking about. Anything was better than just sitting here as the they poked and prodded at his body and then sitting and aimlessly counting down the days purely for the sake of having something constant to occupy his mind. 

 

Life was dull and pointless here. If Peter had the opportunity to change that, he was not throwing away his shot.

 

Honestly, the ‘half baked disaster plan’ was exactly that. It was not well thought out, well planned, or going to be very effective but at least it would show Ross and his men that Peter wasn’t just going to sit in silence. It was an act of defiance rather than an actual escape plan.

 

When the others woke up the next morning, life carried on as usual for the first few hours. Nothing was peculiar in the exact same, dreary start to the day that happened every morning, except for thee occasional subtle glance Clint would throw Peter that was full of suspicion as if trying to work out exactly what Peter was going to do.

 

It was after lunch when everything began to change.  
As armed guards marched through the door, ready to sedate and move Peter, he put his plan into action. As they opened his cell door, Peter stood patiently – as usual – for one of them to come and sedate him.   
The woman with the amber syringe stepped forward, expecting no fuss from the usually complacent teenager – which is why she was unprepared for what happened.

 

Peter ducked and rolled out of the line of fire from the guns and roundhouse kicked the woman in the side before twisting her arm (effectively dislocating it) and forcing her to drop the syringe on the floor. 

 

Before either the guards could shoot or Peter could try and knock any of them out, white hot pain radiated from his neck sending electrical shocks throughout his body causing it to spasm in agony and forcing Peter to cry out. Black spots clouded his vision and the darkness took him soon enough.

 

Oh he was definitely going to end up paying for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm jetting of to China next week which is going to be amazing but it does mean you might not be hearing from me for a while. With a bit of luck, I'll do some writing on the plane and will have an update for you lot when I get back but to be honest I'm a lazy-ass procrastinator so that probably won't happen.
> 
> Thank you all for your continued support and comments on this, it means a lot to me! They make me a very happy girl! : )
> 
> Unrelated: I absolutely can not wait for the March hamildrop because my baby Ben Platt is going to be in it and Hamilton is my jam so...


	8. Hello?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of your suggestions for this chapter were downright cruel. Bloody hell! (Looking at you tracky...)

Peter was pretty sure he was awake. He was certain that he’d opened his eyes, but then again he could be very wrong as he could see absolutely nothing except pitch black. Not even his hands in front of his face. 

 

Shakily, he stood and leant slightly against the wall as he tried to gather his bearings. He attempted to look around, craning his neck and squinting his eyes; enhanced senses couldn’t help him now. He was completely cut of from the world. 

 

Nothing to see. Nothing to hear.

 

He brought his hands towards his face, but even that felt uncoordinated, like he wasn’t quite sure exactly where his face was supposed to be or how far away his hands were.

 

“Hello.” He called out tentatively, in the hopes of scoping out how large the area was he was trapped in using echoes. Or maybe it was just to hear his own voice, to hear anything at all, for some sort of sensory input, some sign that he was actually still existing. But no sign came back.

 

There was no echo. The room remained eerily silent and it freaked Peter out like nothing else had done so far. For the first time, he felt completely, unquestionably alone. The very thought made him sick to his stomach.

 

At least in his cell he had the others to talk to, to show he wasn’t alone at the very least. Now he had no one. It hardly felt like he even had himself.

 

Taking a calming breath, Peter tried to run his hands along the wall so he could get a better idea of the hell he was trapped in.

 

Strangely enough, the walls were sort of soft to touch and Peter realised that they were covered with a layer of foam. At least the echo thing made sense now. It would absorb any noise or echoes. If he wasn’t so confused right now, he’d probably be impressed they thought of it. 

 

Working his way around the room didn’t take that long, it was probably only a fraction bigger than his cell but was completely devoid of any furnishings or markings to distinguish where exactly he was in the room. He couldn’t even tell where the door was supposed to be.

 

There was a small bubble of panic starting to well up inside of him as the chances of him finding a way out simmered into impossible. He was literally helpless. The thought made him kick a wall in frustration but the soft cushioning brought no relief.

 

Breathing heavily out of a mixture of anger and worry, he sank to the floor and rested his head in his hands. 

 

He sat crouched in the corner for what could’ve been no longer than 30 minutes before he felt his eyelids grow heavy. It had hardly been half an hour since he was bloody unconscious, he really shouldn’t need to sleep. 

 

Despite this unanswered thought, Peter’s mind was growing more tired by the second so he gave in to the need for rest. He could sleep now and ask questions later, it wasn’t like he was going anywhere anytime soon.

 

•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•

 

In Peter’s defence, it was only a quick nap. Well – he thought it was. In reality, it was impossible to tell. Time had lost all sort of meaning. Had it been 5 minutes or 5 hours? Had he been there for hours or days? And, overall, does it really matter? Not like knowing would help.

 

Over the next few hours, Peter found he had absolutely nothing to do – which was especially annoying because Peter was exactly the kind of person who got bored easily anyway.

 

Life in that bloody cell was practically a high speed chase scene from some action film compared to his. 

 

It wasn’t a secret Peter liked to talk. Usually, he’d be happily chatting away to one of the others right now. Talking to people he liked was never an issue, hell – he often talked to himself just so he wouldn’t be sat in silence. But, for pretty much the first time in his entire life, he couldn’t think of anything to say.

 

So he just walked around, jumped of a couple of walls, mindlessly paced, thought about nothing in particular (random vines mostly), and slept. Well napped really.

 

The strangest part was when he started hearing to voices though. Not like in lion king when Simba had that weird epiphany thing, just faint sort of whisperings, words that he just couldn’t make out no matter how good his hearing was. Random noises, like the occasional chime of a grandfather clock. All things that shouldn’t be there.

 

Logically, Peter knew that it wasn’t really happening. Just the deprivation of the senses beginning to play tricks on him. It didn’t stop it from feeling so real though. It didn’t stop him flinching slightly when a voice sounded a little too much like May, Ned, Mr Stark, or anything really that reminded him of home. It didn’t stop his sharp intake of breath when he swore he heard Ben.

 

It got harder and harder to keep reminding himself it wasn’t real.

 

It was a while after that the hallucinations started. Coupled with the random sounds, it got harder and harder to distinguish between reality and imagination. 

 

One minute he’d be sat alone in darkness, the next he’d open his eyes and MJ would be stood at the other end of the room eating an apple or reading a book, completely nonplussed. Sometimes she’d acknowledge him with a “what up nerd” but then Peter would blink again and she would be gone.

 

He would be alone. Again.

 

The only anchor he had was the occasional clang of a door opening which let in some food. Never light though. It seemed that whenever they opened the door all light on the outside was also blocked.

 

The other thing about the door was, it always seemed to change position. Either Peter got so disorientated, he could never remember which spot the door was in last time or they kept changing the door to confuse him even more. If it was the latter, it was definitely working.

 

After he heard the clang of the door to his left, he crawled to remain closer to the ground so he could find the box containing the food with out stepping in it, a technique he had discovered after learning that lesson the hard way. He searched the floor until he reached the other wall but couldn’t find the package. Well that was odd.

 

He tried searching again but to no avail. He climbed up the wall to search the ceiling (you can never be sure with these people) where he breathed a sigh of relief as he found the box containing the food. He really wasn’t sure how long it had been since he last ate and he was anxious to quench his hunger.

 

Something that did slightly unnerve him though was the fact that food doesn’t often defy gravity. It seemed a much more probable option that Peter had spent the last few hours sitting upside down on the ceiling. His spacial awareness was properly fucked up.

 

After he finished eating, he resumed his resting position against the wall. Funny how doing absolutely nothing made him so sleepy.

 

•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•

 

Peter woke with a start and to the deafening bang of a pistol being shot. He threw his hands to his ears and scrunched his eyes closed.

 

As he unclenched and opened his eyes, he could feel the bile rising in his throat. Laying completely still in the centre off the room was a body.

 

Blood. Crimson and fresh staining the grey shirt. Pouring like a river onto the floor below. 

 

Eyes open but lifeless. Body not moving. Mouth open. Hands clutching the bullets path.

 

Peter threw a hand over his mouth, the only thing that would stop him being violently sick. He clenched his eyes shut to block it out, but the image was engraved in the back of his eyelids. It wouldn’t leave him.

 

Tears hot and wet fell swiftly down his face and he sobbed uncontrollably into himself.

 

He couldn’t do this again. Couldn’t see him again. It was hard enough watching it happen the first time.

 

More gun shots echoed round the room, shouts and cries seemed to come from the walls. Peter opened his eyes again but Ben was still there. Still lying motionless.

 

Peter really couldn’t do this. He had to get out. He had to get out right now. He would gouge his own eyeballs out before having to see that again.

 

What he wouldn’t give to be back in his cell right now. Would the torture never end? 

 

As though Peter had uttered the magic words, the door clanged open again and for the first time in what felt like centuries to Peter, light flooded the room.

 

Unaccustomed to the bright, he buried his head in his clothes. This could mean only two things. His torture was finally over, or the next stage was about to begin. 

 

“There he is, Peter dude are you ok? Can you hear me?” Oh thank God a familiar voice. It quelled his fear and gave him the strength to lift his head and look at his rescuers.

 

It was Clint accompanied by a girl in a – “wait up! Holy fucking shit that’s black widow!” Peter thought to himself as he looked around. She was holding of guards and looking immensely cool.

 

“Peter you gotta been quick. We’re hightailing out of here but we don’t have much time. Can you walk?”

 

Looking at the room, Peter was relieved to see that the body of uncle Ben had disappeared, but it didn’t stop the image from being played in his mind.

 

The loud noises of guns and alarms from outside coupled with the intense light after such long periods of darkness made Peter nauseous and the intense sensory input made his head ache and vision go fuzzy, but nothing was about to stand between him and freedom.

 

Clumsily, he got to his feet and stumbled towards the door. 

 

“let’s go.” He croaked, voice cracked and achy with disuse.

 

He was finally going home. It all seemed a little too good to be true...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back.
> 
> Sorry it's been a while. I'm running on caffeine and lack of sleep today so some of this might not make sense but I'm going to update anyway. Thanks for your patience and lovely comments as always, it means a lot to me.
> 
> Got inspired to update this fic again today afer binging a fuck ton of marvel movies because they just put loads on netflix and I intend to watch them all as well as finish watchingJessica Jones which is hella good.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it, thanks for reading : )


	9. I guess we're getting out of here

The next few minutes were a blur. The trio ran along the plain corridors of the raft, Natasha leading the way and Clint protecting their backs, with Peter sandwiched in the middle. Truth be told, Peter hadn’t the faintest idea what was going on, but that didn’t matter. For the first time in many days, there was truly a chance of them all making it out.

 

Bullets fired left right and centre from black widow’s gun, a look of concentrated fury in her eyes as she quickly shot down anyone who tried to stand in her way. Peter would’ve stared in awe at her skill if he wasn’t so damn focused on escape. 

 

His trusty Web shooters had been returned to him by widow as he left his isolated cell and Peter figured she must have seized them earlier when they arrived. It felt good to have them back on his writs, a feeling of familiar comfort at once again having the ability to defend himself after so many nights utterly helpless. He didn’t realise how much he missed it until he got it back. 

 

Peter was webbing up guys as he went, disarming guards and knocking them out. Driven by the possibility of freedom. He could almost smell it. It smelt of fresh air, May’s cooking (actually more like burning), MJ’s perfume...

 

‘Focus Peter’ he mentally berated himself as one guard got a shot that almost landed a little too close to his head. If he screwed up now and they couldn’t get out, he could never forgive himself.

 

After five minutes running and fighting down long corridors, they entered a large hall – but it currently resembled a battlefield. In one corner, vision and Wanda were fighting off hoards of armed guards. Despite the fact they didn’t appear to be struggling, Peter could tell Wanda wasn’t functioning optimally. Some of her magic was weaker than usual and she was missing shot she could’ve ordinarily made blindfolded. The months of torture had clearly taken their toll on her and the sudden call to arms had left her – had left them all – feeling weaker.

 

On the other side of the room, Sam had gotten his wings back and was knocking guards out with them as well as flying over head to get some good shots in at the large masses. Fighting back to back with Falcon was Captain America (holy fucking shit Captain America!!!!), a look of fierce determination on his face and his shield was tossed around the room with strong passion.

 

To Peter’s left Hawkeye had begun firing a gun – his weapon of choice evidently not available – with an alarming amount of accuracy, picking off anyone who ventured too close. Scott would occasionally be found shrinking and popping up in random places as he grew again in order to surprise attack people.

 

It appeared to be a surprisingly organised chaos.  
To his left, black widow pressed a finger into her ear whilst skilfully roundhouse kicking a guard who tried to attack her from behind. 

 

“Yeah Tony, we got him. A little shaken up but ok. Is the quinjet ready?” Peter couldn’t hear the conversation on the other side but Natasha was nodding her head and just the mention of his mentor made Peter perk up. He suddenly felt a lot more reassured knowing that Tony was there in case things went wrong – which they wouldn’t.

 

“Let’s move out!” Cap shouted over the commotion of the hall and gradually the groups of heroes made their way towards the exit until they were all standing side by side, backs facing the doors that held their freedom.  
It looked super badass and felt pretty fucking awesome.

 

Wanda was clouding them in a red mist, effectively paralysing them; vision was blasting streaks of gold at the guards; Scott was full sized and trying to land some blows on the attackers; Natasha was both firing her gun and trying out a range of fierce looking marshal art movements, showing no mercy; Peter was firing webs full pelt, disarming and disabling as many people as he could; Clint was firing his gun with deadly precision and a trained eye on his targets; Cap was ricocheting his shield against the walls and ramming it into the chests of many agents with enough force to wind a few men with each blow; and Falcon was on the end, knocking guards out with a majestic swoop of his wings.

 

Hell yeah it was badass. 

 

Engines whirred overhead and the super team took that as their cue to leave, stepping out onto the launch pad on top of the under water prison. Despite the day itself being over cast, the world had never seemed so bright to Peter. After so long being trapped indoors, the fresh sea air was invigorating and evoked a new sense of life and hopefulness. The dream finally felt real. He was getting out, and he was getting out today.

 

The outside world was brighter than he remembered, especially after spending the last few days in the dark, and the addition of the sounds of fighting and talking around him and the loud engines above was all becoming too much for Peter. The sounds were too loud and the colours too bright. 

 

A headache was growing behind his eyes and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out some sensory input but when he opened them again they were blurred and fuzzy. A hand touched his shoulder and spun him round, at first Peter flinched under the touch but he forced himself to take a deep breath.   
As his vision refocused and senses calmed down slightly, he remembered the severity of the situation and fought to keep down the wave of nausea rising in him. He was so close now. Hold this off for a minute or two and he could freak out on the plane all he wanted. He would not jeopardise his chances.

 

He would not throw away his shot.

 

A ladder dropped down next to him which Clint and Natasha climbed up to reach safety. Cap and a miniaturised Scott climbed on the back of Falcon as he flew them up to the jet leaving only vision, Wanda, and Peter who were holding off the last of the troops. As soon as the immediate vicinity was clear, Vision flew up to the jet too and Peter launched a Web in the hopes of swinging himself up.

 

As he was half-way through his swing, he felt the familiar buzz on electricity at his neck that worked his way down to his body. He looked up at the sky and begged to just make it to the plane. Peter didn’t think he’d ever wanted something so much all his life.

 

White hot spasms of electricity from the shock collar danced through his body causing him to loose his grip on the webbing and fall back down to the floor with a crash. As he shakily rose to his feet, ready to fight again, he saw that Wanda had too been shocked and thrown to the floor. 

 

As a fresh wave of guards came to attack they used everything they had left to fight back. All the anger and hatred for these people who had had them locked away, all the passion and longing to finally be free, all of the built up adrenalin from there daring escape. This was the last push. The final hurdle. 

 

Webs were thrown like flashes of lightning and red mist surrounded every where. Nothing was getting in between them and their freedom. As soon as a pathway was clear, the two heroes made a mad dash to the jet. Wanda levitated using red orbs of magic to push her higher off the ground and Peter flung some webs to pull himself to safety.

 

Wanda made it on board and Peter... Peter got so, so close.

 

He was only a mere matter of meters away when it happened. He barely even registered what it was. All he could feel was two spots of mind numbing agony, blossoming all over his body. He was bleeding profusely from his shoulder and abdomen where two bullets had entered, shot by a keen marksman far below.

 

He couldn’t move, could breathe. He stretched his arm out as far as it would reach and just couldn’t grasp the hands that would pull him to safety.

 

Unable to hold on any longer, Peter let go.

 

And he fell. He fell right back into the clutches of the people he was so sure he was going to escape from.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, please don't hate me


	10. Alone again

“Go Tony! We have to leave, NOW!” Steve commanded, looking anxiously around the jet. Pretty much everyone was slumped against a wall of some sort and asking around to see if there was any immediate wounds needing attending to. Other than a couple of scratches and maybe even a bullet wound, everyone had emerged relatively unharmed.

 

“Is everyone okay?” Clint asked from the cockpit where he had gone to sit with Tony. The jet lurched into action and sped away from the raft where some guards had started manning planes to chase after the escapees.

 

Tony glanced behind him at the worn out team and was only content for a moment before he was struck by a horrifying thought. “Where’s the kid?” He tried to ask calmly but a hint of anxiety seeped into his voice.

 

At his proclamation, the others looked around with growing horror and Wanda brought a hand up to her face as she tried to stand from where she was sat against the wall leaning into vision. She looked around and called Peter’s name urgently.

 

Clint quickly took over the controls as Tony stood up abruptly, his face a devastating mix of anger and fear. “Where’s my kid!” he shouted, voice cracking slightly at the end. 

 

“He was with me... I thought h-he... I thought we both got on together.” Wanda exclaimed shakily, her voice wavering and tears beginning to well in her eyes. She presses her head into vision’s chest and began to sob. She couldn’t lose another brother. Not after how close they’d been to finally escaping.

 

“Turn around.” Tony instructed Clint, trying so hard to keep his voice steady but his eyes betrayed him anyway, panic and tears welling in them. “Turn around!” He commanded more violently as Clint continued to fly away.

 

“No Tony, we can’t – ”

 

“Fuck off Steve! That’s my kid, my kid is still in there! I’m not just gonna leave him, so turn this god damn plane around right-”

 

“Tony!” Natasha shouted, “Steve’s right. If we try and go back now, they’ll be ready for us. They will shoot us down and lock us all away, then no one will be there to help Peter.” 

 

She walked over to him and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder as she spun him round to look her in the eyes. Tony was breathing heavily and his eyes were darting all over the place trying to occupy his mind and keep his thoughts at bay. 

 

God this was all his fault, all his own stupid fault! Peter should never have been dragged into this. And then, after all of that for him to be the only one left there. That wasn’t fair and it was all his own stupid fucking fault. He would kill himself if May didn’t get to him first. Peter would be so alone right now, so scared. He must think they’ve abandoned him. Peter must hate them all. He must hate Tony so much...

 

“Tony.” Natasha said with a softness in her voice that Tony didn’t think he’d ever heard. “It’s okay, look at me. There is not a single person on this jet who isn’t gonna give everything they’ve got to get him back. If you think there’s any chance at all we’d leave him there, you’re dead wrong.”

 

“She’s right.” Clint chimed in, “kids a pain in the ass, but there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to see him home safe again.”

 

“Me too.” Sam chorused. “So we’re gonna come back with double the force, we’re gonna kick ass, we’re gonna save the kid, and this time no one’s gonna get left behind. Okay.”

 

“Well then,” Steve said stepping forward and with a serious look on his face, he declared, “looks like we got some planning to do,” Almost as an afterthought and with a small smile on his face, he added, “team.”

 

•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•

 

Falling was weird. Rationally Peter knew he should have felt fear or anger, or at least anything at all. But he just felt empty. Like the last of the carpet had just been ripped out from underneath him and had left him lying on his back. But almost like he knew this was going to happen, like he was used to it. Like this was all just some tortuous nightmare he was living in and if he closed his eyes, he would wake up back in his cell with the others.

 

Peter hit the ground and it was then he realised, he wasn’t waking up. The nightmare was in fact reality.  
The jet had left along with his final hopes of escaping, and he was not on it. Guards with guns had him surrounded and were shouting instructions which he vaguely thought he should probably listen to but he didn’t have the concentration to carry out the action so all the voices and the chaos surrounding him blurred together.

 

An angry man was shouting at some of the guards and through a gun to the ground with his passion. Peter tuned in halfway through his rant... “So board the bloody choppers and take after them then! Track them down or shoot them down for all I care. They don’t just get to come in here and take everything; don’t just let the fucking avengers get away!”

 

It was as though his words his final conformation that the avengers were actually gone was enough to bring Peter back to reality. His senses came back to him and the pain blossomed in him again reminding him that he’d been shot. Well that fucking sucked. 

 

With a shout of agony, Peter held his wounds and closed his eyes until some of the shock from the pain had finally subsided. When he opened them again, he saw the cold, hard face of Ross staring down at him. 

 

“One.” Ross said to nobody in particular. “We got one fucking kid.” With one swift movement, Ross kicked Peter in his stomach making him scream in pain and roll over. With a morbid, humourless chuckle, Ross whispered to the nearest guard, “keep him alive for now. They might come back for him, but at least in the meantime, we can have a bit of fun. Really make this whole situation worthwhile. We’ll make the avengers pay.”

 

Adjusting his suit jacket, Ross walked away as rough hands grabbed at Peter, trying to tend to his wounds.

 

He wanted nothing more than to be at home. He wanted May’s careful, reassuring hands cleaning his cuts and making him feel better. He wanted to be hanging out with Tony in the lab, feeling safe and protected by his side. He wanted Ned to talk to, because there was nothing like a conversation with Ned to cheer you up (and everyone knows that he is the best hugger). He wanted to sit with MJ, just to sit in companionable silence as he tried to figure the mystery girl out and she sketched his face. And – even though it sounds selfish – he wanted the other avengers there, to reassure him, tell him not to lose hope, to just talk as they had spent so many days doing.

 

He just wanted to not feel so alone.

 

But all he got was rough hands and unfriendly faces.

 

And for the first time since he’d been alone again, Peter cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow the response last chapter was absolutely incredible! I couldn't have asked for better comments from you guys and I hope you're still enjoying this. Sorry if anyone was upset with the outcome of the last chapter x
> 
> On an unrelated note, I've just started watching daredevil and I really really love it. Also supernatural s13 airs in Britain tonight, is anyone else going to be watching? : )


	11. Empty chairs at empty tables

They’d, pumped him full of drugs which logically should have numbed the pain. But it didn’t. It made him drowsy and out of it, dulling his concentration and making his eyes blur and close for varying lengths of time but never letting him slip into blissful unconsciousness. 

 

Peter was lying flat on his back in what appeared to be an operating theatre, being swarmed by some surgeons and surrounded by machines that were constantly whirring and steadily beeping whilst recording his vitals. The doctors working on him were not the friendly-smiley kind, but most had cold eyes that looked at him in a way which suggested they thought of him as more of a specimen to be examined rather than a scared, helpless teenager.

 

Seriously where the hell did Ross get these people from?

 

His senses were muffled just enough to let him begin to relax despite all of his survival instincts demanding he stay alert.

 

Fuck! Nopety-nope, the pain was back at full force burning him inside out and making Peter writhe in agony. Every time things got even close to beginning to feel okay, he’d receive a painful reminder of where he was.

 

The sooner it was over, the better.

 

The guards were under strict instructions to keep Peter alive no matter the costs – it didn’t mean there was a thought spared for his comfort though. No one was actually telling him anything but Peter was pretty sure they were just removing and fixing up the destruction the bullets left. 

 

Ever since the bite, Peter’s metabolism had significantly increased which – quite frankly – was a huge pain in the ass. Pain relief didn’t work on him as his body burned through the stuff too quickly meaning he had no choice but to grit his teeth and bear it. 

 

Thankfully enough, he’d never actually had to go through surgery before, but he had occasionally been pretty beaten up whilst spider-manning before (which hadn’t exactly been a walk in the park) ; any discomforts he’d felt then however, was nothing compared to the excruciation he felt now.

 

After the immense abuse his body had been subject to, it finally gave in and let Peter fall unconscious.  
He was glad when the darkness finally took him.

 

●•●•●•●•●

 

It was an ache all over his body that brought him back to reality. The only noise was a persistent beep of the heart rate monitor and a quiet nurse scuffling around with some papers at the end of the bed.

 

He looked younger than most of the others were and was bustling around anxiously. He probably wasn’t as experienced as some of the higher ups - he could barely be a couple of years older than Peter after all. As he saw that Peter was awake, he made some notes on Peter’s health, flashing Peter a small smile as he did which made Peter feel a little more comfortable. 

 

That was of course, until the door flew open and a cold, professional woman in a white lab coat strode in. Her icy glare sent to literal shivers down Peter’s spine as she snatched the report out of the anxious doctors hands making him look even more frightened. Her cold, assessing eyes stared him down for an eternity until she finally gave a short affirmative nod at his work.

 

“Come, General Ross wishes to have a word with the patient alone.” The cold doctor commanded whilst practically dragging the boy out of the room with her. 

 

It was only then that Peter noticed Ross standing like a shadow in the corner of the room, waiting for Peter to notice him. He grinned at Peter once he had his attention, but it came across as slightly malicious, as a shark would smile at a group of fish before it had them for tea. God Peter thought that he was going to be sick if he had to look at that pathetic excuse for a man any longer.

 

“Hello Mr. Parker. I believe you and I are in need of a little conversation.” Ross moved towards him slowly but with precision and sat rigidly on the end of Peter’s bed, never breaking eye contact.

 

Peter could feel his breathing begin to increase, anxious to find out what would happen to him now, the unsettling stare and malicious grin twisting his insides. But Peter hadn’t the energy to protest or respond, he couldn’t even attempt to move his body away or even turn his head. It was like all of his energy had been zapped from him and all that was left was the shell of Peter Parker. How much longer could he actually go on fighting?

 

“You don’t need to worry. If I wanted you dead, I’d’ve done it by now.” That really wasn’t the part Peter was worried about. “No, see I need you Peter – whether I like it or not.”

 

“I have lost everything,” Ross began standing up and paced around the room, the anger in his tone growing. “I had the avengers ripped out from under my nose and you are the only chance I’ve got left to bring them back.”

 

“I can only hope someone might take pity on you, I mean of all the people I could’ve been left with and I’m stuck with you.”

 

“An annoying, stupid teenager, who’s a piss-poor attempt at a superhero, and a pathetic excuse for team mate.” Each insult was punctuated by a swing of the hand from Ross onto a table contains assorted medical supplies which clattered to the floor; the resounding clash making Peter flinch. 

 

“Hell, I’m probably doing them a favour keeping you here. Do you really think the avengers want a teenager hanging around?” Ross scoffed. “you’re worthless Peter Parker.” 

 

Peter could feel the tears welling in his eyes and the bubbles in his tummy. Inwardly, Peter was assuring himself that they would come back for him. The others were his friends now, they wouldn’t want to see him suffering there alone. Mr stark – Mr stark would care, he’d come back for him.

 

So then why was everything Ross was saying making perfect sense.

 

“Then I guess there’s your lovely aunt. They’ll probably just tell her you died, I mean they’ve accepted the fact that you simply aren’t worth saving, it would be easier on everyone if she didn’t know the truth. I’m sure with time she’ll get over it – she has before. And you’re friends (all what – two of them), they’ll move on. It wouldn’t surprise me if they already had.”

 

Shit. He was right. Ross was fucking right about everything. Why would it be worth his energy fighting if there wasn’t anything to be fighting for?

 

“And in the unlikely event that the avengers do come back for you,” he turned to face Peter directly, a malicious glint in his eye, “they won’t be getting you back in one piece.”

 

A heavy fist ploughed it’s way through the air and collided with Peter’s abdomen. He cried out in pain and tried to curl in on himself but the blows just kept coming. Violent and angry, striking his stomach and face – anywhere that would make him erupt in pain (which was everywhere).

 

White and black spots clouded his vision and blood began pouring out of his mouth from where he’d bitten his tongue, stitched up wounds re-opened, and blossoms of pain sprouted on his face where he could feel it beginning to bruise.

 

Punch after punch, the room was filled with Peter’s heart breaking sounds of anguish over Ross’ heavy breathing and the thud of flesh colliding with flesh.  
Even long after the screams had finally stopped, the constant abuse of his skin continued.

 

•●•●•●•

 

Peter didn’t remember passing out but when his eyes opened again, he was back in his old cell which was really a blessing.

 

His entire body ached and was sore and other than moving up to sit against the wall, Peter couldn’t find the energy to move.

 

Somewhere outside of the room, a song had started playing and was gradually increasing in volume. It wasn’t particularly recognizable but it was very loud – especially to his sensitive ears. 

 

Having nothing else to do, Peter listened to see if he could recognize it. It was mostly string instruments and kind of sounded like something you might see in a ballet, at the big build up of it, a motif started up that vaguely reminded him of the apprentice theme. 

 

It was only when the apprentice motif played for the fourth time that Peter realised it wasn’t in fact one long song, it was the same one repeated over and over again.

 

It got boring very quickly after that but was almost impossible to ignore as the music was constantly harassing his sensitive ears.

 

Trying to push it took the back of his mind, Peter looked out at the empty cells that used to contain his friends. It was lonely. Thinking back to only a day or two before, Peter would’ve given anything to be back in these cells, but now it just felt so empty and he felt so alone. I guess he never really realised how lucky he was to have them here until they all got taken away. 

 

“Empty chairs at empty tables now my friends are dead and gone.”

 

The song lyric from Les Miserables came to mind so he sang it softly to himself under his breath. Except they had all gotten out. The only one still dying in here was him.

 

“There’s a grief that can’t be spoken, there’s a pain goes on and on,” Peter began with a little more force now in the hopes of carrying a small tune to pass the time. It was all drowned out by the blasting music however and Peter couldn’t concentrate on what he was supposed to be thinking of so the idea was quickly dismissed. 

 

Peter wasn’t exactly a singer but he could carry a tune; May had always been a big musical fan so he was quite knowledgeable with most of the songs as she played them so frequently around the house: Les Mis, Hamilton, waitress, wicked, you name it she played it.  
God he missed her. He hoped more than anything she missed him just as much.

 

•●•●•●•●

 

Peter couldn’t sleep, hell he couldn’t even think over the incessant music being played non-stop. His hands were covered over his ears protectively as he lay sideways and unmoving on the floor; eyes unblinking and unfocused staring at the opposite wall, body still aching all over.

 

That’s why he didn’t hear it, didn’t sense it, didn’t see it coming when the door burst open and an adrenaline fuelled Captain America sprinted through escorted by a fierce looking, magic-wielding Scarlet witch. 

 

He ran towards Peter’s cell and bashed his shield mercilessly against the lock until it was forced open. It didn’t even make Peter flinch.

 

“Kid, kid. Can you hear me?” He shook Peter on the shoulder which caused Peter to stir and his eyes to blink but he couldn’t quite comprehend the situation.

 

“Can you stand? Can you walk?” Peter tried to sit up but even the slightest movements caused pain to ricochet round his body and he fell back to the floor with a groan.

 

As gently as possible given the circumstances, Cap scooped the injured boy into his arms and apologised at the flinch of pain as his bruised and beaten body was jostled. 

 

He couldn’t remember the rest of it. His mind was sluggish and tired and he wanted more than anything just to fall asleep. It was probably for the best he couldn’t remember it; at least then it would be easier to pretend that he made it out safe the first time and didn’t have to suffer through those few extra days in hell.

 

At some point they'd made it on to the plane, he didn't know how but he imagined it was probably similar to how it went the first time (of course with the exception that this time, they all had made it out).

 

It was hearing Tony's voice again that made him feel completely safe for the first time again for the first time in weeks: “Peter, hey buddy stay with me. We got you kid, you’re safe now.”

 

Sweeter words had never been spoken.

 

It was just his goddamn Parker luck that something else would be about to go wrong...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just can't seem to give him a break.
> 
> I've also got mocks coming up over the next two weeks which I have done no revision for (whoops). This means that I can't guarantee when I'll next post a chapter but I'll do it as soon as it's ready so bare with.
> 
> All your comments and feedback had been outstanding so thank you so much xx


	12. I'm a bad bitch you can't kill me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Kaden (Koverstreet) for coming up with the idea that they go to Wakanda. Enjoy...

“T-tony” 

 

“Yeah kid it’s me, welcome back”

 

Peter breathed a heavy sigh of relief. He was definitely out now, that was an undeniable truth that he would be eternally gratefully for.

 

Feeling truly safe for the first time in weeks, Peter began to relax and the tiredness that had been threatening to engulf him over the past few hours took it’s toll. His eyelids grew heavy with fatigue and he would’ve been perfectly content to just lay down there and then and sleep for days.

 

A gentle tap on his shoulder forced his eyes to open again. It was Sam.

 

“Stay awake for a minute whilst we check you over. Come with me.”

 

Sam held out his hand and Peter took it as they walked towards a comfier looking chair in the corner. Actually, Sam was doing most of the walking and Peter was heavily leaning against him trying his hardest to keep upright.

 

Normally, Peter would have been incredibly embarrassed to have had to rely on someone else to help him walk, but right now he simply didn’t care. They had all seen him looking so much worse and the bone deep exhaustion coupled with his entire body aching meant he was more just grateful to have someone to help him.

 

Peter slumped into the chair with a sigh and a professional looking woman in a white coat started checking him over. He didn’t really pay her much attention but the process still made him uneasy as it resembled all of the testing and surgeries he had to endure in he raft. 

 

As if sensing his unease, Tony stood to his left and placed a gentle yet reassuring hand on his shoulder. The rest of his rescue team – with the exception of widow and Hawkeye who had taken to piloting the jet – were stood talking and checking over other minor injuries in small groups. Gradually, they all moved in closer together and sat down or leaned against the walls of the jet to form a circle. Wanda and vision were having a quiet conversation to Peter’s right, and faint snippets of conversation from Nat and Clint in the cockpit could be heard, but it was otherwise quiet on board. 

 

It was nice, companionable, familiar.

 

Peter suspected it was because everyone was so tired. The last few days hadn’t been easy on anyone but at least knowing that everyone was finally safe had diffused some of he tension.

 

Once he had been declared relatively unharmed (with the exception of a couple of nasty cuts that had been bandaged), the doctor left but told him he shouldn’t sleep until they had done a proper head scan just to be sure.

 

That was when the thought struck him, “Where are we even going?” Peter had assumed that they would just go back to the compound and had thought nothing more of it, but the more he considered it the less likely it seemed.

 

“Well, since you’re technically fugitives who just broke out of a maximum security prison, heading back to New York right now isn’t really on the cards. Cap called in a favour and you’re heading somewhere out of the public eye until I can pull a few strings and get some laws changed.”

 

“Yeah but where though?”

 

Steve chimed in, “You ever heard of Wakanda, kid?”  
The name rang a bell. Peter was pretty sure they’d talked about it in class one time when it had been on he news. Some king had been shot. He couldn’t really remember much else about it, it hadn’t seemed important at the time.

 

“Erm yeah, that country somewhere in Africa. It’s just like farmers and stuff isn’t it?”

 

That got a small chuckle from some of the avengers but Peter didn’t know what was funny.

 

“Something like that, Pete.” Tony joined in.

 

Well that created more questions than it answered. He sensed he wasn’t going to get a straight answer out of them and was too exhausted as of then to be bothered about it. If they were going to be weird and ominous about it, let them be weird and ominous about it. Sometimes, you just have to learn to take each thing as it comes with them.

 

Small bouts of friendly chatter began to resume around him but Peter was content to just listen in rather than try to join in. He didn’t really feel like talking but it was nice to see everyone else looking a bit more relaxed.  
He had missed this.

 

Suddenly, a flaring pain began in his shoulder.  
It started of concentrated there but it burnt like potassium in a flame. Peter grimaced and his breathing quickened as he grasped the burning shoulder tightly. An anguished whimper escaped his lips as it grew in pain and began to spread down his arm and through his chest.

 

All eyes were drawn to him and a flurry of concerned voices attacked his ears. 

 

“Peter?”

 

“what’s wrong dude?”

 

“You okay buddy?”

 

“what’s going on?”

 

All he could reply with was an painful cry he had desperately tried to hold back. The pain was all over his body, aching his bones and creating the feeling that he was being burned from the inside out. He smacked his head against the back of the chair and bit his lips so hard it began to bleed in a futile attempt to diminish the suffering. 

 

God it hurt to scream, it hurt to move, it hurt to even think. 

 

His breath had been stolen as though his lungs had become paralysed from the pain and he couldn’t scream or cry out for help.

 

White hot tears rolled down his cheeks as he felt his body beginning to convulse. He wanted to shout, wanted it all to go away, for someone to help him.

 

Muscular but gentle hands lifted him and placed him cautiously onto the floor as steady hands held his head in place to stop it from hitting the floor. His body jolted and seized until the pain became almost unbearable.  
A soft voice was trying to whisper reassurances into his ear but it was lost on Peter. The quiet, companionable atmosphere from earlier was now replaced with one of intense worry and confusion.  
As the pain began to reach unbearable levels, Peter was so sure this was how it was going to end. All that time he spent locked away, all those days spent fighting to be free and it would all end on the plane ride home. How ironic.

 

Just as Peter began to beg for unconsciousness to take him, it stopped.

 

Everything just stopped. 

 

The pain dissipated as quickly as it had arrived and the convulsions stopped.

 

Peter lay on the floor a shaky mess taking deep and uneven breaths in an attempt to make up for those precious seconds starved of oxygen. He was scared and confused and feeling incredibly vulnerable.

 

He tried to push himself up but the strong hands of Steve Rogers pushed him back down. 

 

“Woah stay down for a minute underoos, let’s wait for you to get your breath back.” He only realised at that moment that his hand had somehow snuck into Tony’s as he was given a little reassuring squeeze.

 

Taking increasingly more even breaths, Peter relaxed more into Wanda who had been supporting his head.  
“ETA 30 seconds, prepare for landing.” Clint shouted from the cockpit whilst fiddling around with some buttons.

 

“Okay Peter, we’re going to sit you up now. Do you think that you can stand?” Sam said leaning over him to help sit him up.

 

Steadily Peter got to his feet leaning heavily against the others supporting him as his legs could buckle at any moment. His head was spinning and he felt slightly nauseous but the quicker he could move, the quicker it would be over.

 

As the jet’s doors opened and they stepped out together, Peter was completely in awe. This was definitely not the quiet town Peter had seen on the news a month or so ago.

 

There were shiny skyscrapers and high-tech jets flying over head and in front of the doors stood a very threatening looking army of warriors. It was like an entire army of black widows. It was fucking awesome!

 

Caught up in the sheer impressiveness of his surroundings, Peter’s steps faltered and he stumbled over, only to be caught by Scott before he hit the ground. What a sight he must have looked: sweaty, pale, tired, and unable to even keep himself upright.

 

“He need some milk!” a voice shouted from the crowd. Peter couldn’t tell who had said it but it was followed by a reprimanding:

 

“Shuri!”

 

“King t’challa.” Cap acknowledged. Holy shit this dude was a king? Was Peter meant to bow or something? What was the etiquette in these situations?

 

“Captain Rogers.” He replied. He continued, gesturing to Peter, “I trust it was a success this time?”

 

“Actually there was an incident on the way back that we’re a little worried about. He’s going to need some medical attention I think.”

 

“Well I can’t help you there.” Peter’s heart sank. “But Shuri can. Get the boy to her lab, I trust you know where it is by now.”

 

Cap smiled a grateful thank you as Shuri stepped forwards and gestured for them to follow her. Tony, Clint, and Wanda escorted Peter to the lab following Shuri whilst the others followed t’challa in the opposite direction.

 

The walk to Shuri’s lab wasn’t long but it was still exhausting for Peter. He slumped down into a seat as soon as he got the chance.

 

Wanda began recounting everything that had happened on the plane to Shuri who was gathering things from around the lab, Clint was keeping a watchful eye on Peter, and Tony was wondering round admiring the tech.

 

Shuri listened to the whole story before shouting at Tony to, “keep your grubby hands off my tech and come make yourself useful.” 

 

He helped Peter on to one of those leather chairs you get at the dentist as Shuri continued to bustle around him. Eventually, she placed four small cubes in a rectangle around Peter which joined together by some blue light that curved around him.

 

He was slightly anxious at first. He didn’t even know this girl and she’d hooked him up to some machine that started whirring and beeping and Peter was too scared to move in case it accidentally exploded or something crazy like that. Maybe he was going to get super beefed up like Captain America did. Or what if it chopped up his body into tiny pieces and transported him somewhere like Mike Tevee in Charlie and the chocolate factory? Either way, none of the others seemed too concerned so he guessed nothing too awful could happen.

 

After he got over his initial fear, he got the chance to properly study some of the tech around him. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen before. Sure, Mr Stark’s lab was incredible, but this was absolutely mind-blowing. It was years ahead of anything Peter had ever even heard about before. It was incredible.

 

Shuri stretched out a hologram in front of where Peter was sat and the others crowded round to get a closer look. It was a replica of Peter’s body but as a more detailed X-ray. On it were four small black dots around the size of a large marble, and one smaller white one in his shoulder. 

 

“Welp, that doesn’t look good.” Tony commented insightfully.

 

“Yeah no shit Sherlock.” Clint shot back.

 

“Well Fuck you Watson” Tony commented back under his breath.

 

Shuri shook her head and zoomed in on the white dot in his shoulder and studied it carefully. “You said the pain started here, didn’t you?”

 

“Erm, yeah around there.”

 

After a few careful moments of consideration, she continued: “It appears to be some kind of chemical or electronic chip that has been in planted in you and set off by something. It caused a fair bit of tissue damage around the area but although the idea was pretty advanced, the tech is pretty awful.”

 

“Actually, I’m surprised it’s healed that quickly, by the looks of things you should be dead.”

 

At the same time Peter and Tony began to speak.  
“Well he does have an advanced healing fact-”

 

“I’m a bad bitch you can’t kill me.”

 

Shuri laughed. “A last someone who speaks my language!”

 

The other adults in the room looked very confused but Peter grinned looking quite pleased with himself. 

 

Shaking his head, Tony began: “Anyway, the only way to know for sure what’s going on is to get an actual look at the things themselves.”

 

“Yes.” Shuri agreed, “But I suggest we start with the deactivated one as we don’t know what sets the others of yet.” The rest of the room nodded in agreement. “But, it isn’t going to be easy.”

 

Of course it wasn’t going to be. When was it ever easy for Peter bloody Parker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while. I was suffering with writers block for a week, then I had to rewrite out the beginning several times because I just could not get it to work, then when I had finally finished and had something I was actually happy with, I accidently deleted and had to start again. Then, just as had finished editing and went to upload, ao3 scrapped and I had to do everything - again.
> 
> In other news (no spoilers) how devastating was infinity war? Bloody hell that scene at the end (you know which one I'm talking about) had be in tears. This work will continue to remain spoiler-free but if anybody is actually still spoiler free before they see the movie then I take my hat off to you. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and commenting, it makes me super happy : )


	13. The son I never had

They got started on the procedure very quickly. On the one hand, Peter was glad of that because it meant that he would be restored to perfect health as soon as possible and it meant that there was less chance of one of the things going off inside him again. On the other hand, Peter was still pretty knackered and it felt like he had barely had a moment just to sit and get his thoughts together since the grand escape earlier that day, he didn’t quite feel up for an invasive medical procedure. 

 

Peter never really got to voice any protests though before he was whisked away onto a cushioned surgical bed. 

 

Shuri muttered under her breath, barely loud enough for Peter to hear if it wasn’t for his advanced hearing, “Yet another broken white boy for me to fix.”

 

Clint and Wanda were stood eyeing each other nervously from across the room, both keeping their distance but still anxiously keeping a careful eye on Peter. They had both grown rather find of the boy.

 

Tony on the other hand was watching how Shuri worked with poorly disguised fascination. He tried to get as involved as he could with what Shuri was doing but knew not to try and interfere too much; she knew what she was doing and Tony didn’t want to jeopardise the kid’s situation by accidently doing something he shouldn’t have.

 

Peter wasn’t nervous. He was too tired to be nervous. Almost like he had become emotionally drained.

 

He didn’t really know what was happening. She placed four small glowing beads around the area in his shoulder where the first deactivated chip-thing was. Then a smaller device (that Peter assumed to be a magnet of some sorts) steadily brought the chip-thing to the top of his skin. One small incision later, and it was out. It was actually easier than Peter had envisioned. The wakandian tech was really something else. 

 

As soon as it was over, Shuri picked up the chip and rushed it over to a free desk. Tony, Clint, and Wanda all made to follow her but Peter stayed put. They crowded round, Clint and Wanda just watching avidly but Tony was helping to almost dissect the thing.

 

After several minutes poking and prodding as well as some back and forth conversations between Shuri and Tony (some sciencey wibbily wobbely timey-wimey theories about what they were), they had a rough idea of what was going on.

 

Shuri then explained to Clint and Wanda (who couldn’t understand half of what Tony and Shuri had been saying), and Peter (who hadn’t properly been listening).

 

Their best guess was that they were an electronically controlled chip implanted into his body that were supposed to be activated by a separate controller. There was however, no separate trackers on the device to determine which one would go off when, and the force off one wouldn’t be enough to do any serious injury. It implied that they were all supposed to go off at once and had failed.

 

“It’s a good idea, the tech is just very bad.” Shuri explained. “I mean I was making better stuff than this when I was seven and in a blindfold. It’s awful really.”

 

Shuri wondered off muttering to herself under her breath before Tony went to sit beside Peter. Shuri was fiddling with some machines again and pulling up holograms of designs that showed something new she was working on. Tony began to explain what was going to happen next. 

 

“So Shuri’s working on some device to help extract these other chips as quickly and safely as possible.”

 

“But,” Peter interrupted , “can’t we just do it like he other one, I mean you said they were all meant to go off and they didn’t so surely I’m safe right?”

 

With an exasperated sigh, Tony shook his head. “Sorry Pete, it’s not that easy. We think there’s a fail safe on it that might be triggered by too much movement so we have to be careful about getting it out.”

 

A fail safe. Of course there was. Of course there was yet another complication. It was like every god in the entire fucking universe wanted him to just be miserable forever. When was anything ever as simple or straightforward as he wanted it to be?

 

“Good news is,” Tony continued, “we won’t have to wait long. Shuri was already working on a device for a situation like this. All it needs is a couple of tweaks and we’re good to go.”

 

Peter tried his best to manage a grateful smile and nod but there was no hiding his exasperated huff. He wanted this whole ordeal over already. He wanted to be sat at home with May and Ned as they ordered pizza and watched star wars for the hundredth millionth time. He wanted to smile and laugh as they shared some stupid joke, wanted May’s fingers running through his hair. He wanted it so badly it hurt.

 

Not long now – he had to keep reminding himself. This is the last leg, then the whole mess would be dealt with. He could go home.

 

For the next few hours, Tony and Shuri bustled away working on the device. Clint sat and played cards with Peter to keep him occupied – it didn’t require much movement and it was easy to concentrate on. Peter didn’t really know where Clint had gotten playing cards from. He didn’t know if they even used them in Wakanda.

 

Wanda was running her fingers through his hair soothingly – it wasn’t May but it was a start – and she kept complementing it often exclaiming how “extraordinarily soft” it was. They talked about lots of meaningless things but it kept Peter distracted for a while and it felt nice, friendly.

 

They felt like a family. Like two older siblings looking out for their little brother. In a way they sort of were. After everything they had been through together, Peter had definitely started thinking of them as an older brother and sister. It felt good.

 

Finally, after four long hours doing nothing, Shuri finally announced that they were finished.

 

Seeing as this one was going to take quite a bit longer than the previous, they decided it might be better if Peter wasn’t awake for it.

 

Since his super spider metabolism absorbed most pain killing drugs too quickly and there were no super-soldier strength ones to hand, they used the next best thing. 

 

Using her brilliant red magic, Wanda was going to knock him out and make sure he stayed out the whole time.

 

With a reassuring, “see you when you wake up, kid” from Tony, and a comforting “good night” from Wanda (which made him feel more like he was just being tucked into bed rather than having an experimental operation), Peter slipped off into darkness.   
He was finally getting the peaceful rest his body had been craving for days.

 

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●•○

 

Peter woke up feeling like a terrible weight had been lifted from his shoulders. 

 

He woke up fairly quickly but not in a panic. During the time he had been asleep they had moved him into a different room. It looked slightly bigger than his bedroom in Queens and looked liked a standard guest room like the ones you’d find in Stark tower. He was tucked into a bed with crisp white sheets and on the one side of him sat a snoring archer in a large arm chair, and on the other side had Tony Stark sat on a stool looking absent-mindedly at a Stark tablet. 

 

That didn’t surprise him, Peter wasn’t sure the man ever slept. 

 

When he saw that Peter had stirred, he sat up and smiled gently. “Hey kiddo.”

 

“Hey Mr Stark.” He attempted to mumble back but in his groggy state it didn’t really sound like it.

 

“How you feeling?” rather that attempting to use words unsuccessfully again, he just smiled comfortably but the message still seemed to get across.

 

Peter felt good. Better than he had in a long time.

 

All the trials and tribulations of the last few hellish weeks were finally behind him, thank God. The last permanent marks of his time in the raft were gone and he had never felt happier.

 

Things were finally starting to look up.

 

“I’m glad you’re ok Peter.” It was sort of unexpected. Tony never really talked about feelings. It was a topic he had grown very good at avoiding. Peter didn’t speak but he felt he couldn’t have even if he wanted to. He wanted to know what Tony was going to say.

 

“I mean I’m really glad. I don’t know what I’d have done if anything had happened to you. Everything you went through, that’s on me. I should never have brought you into this so you can be damn sure I’ll do anything in my power to make it right again. You’re like a – like a son to me... like the son I never had.”

 

“I know I can’t take back what’s been done but I can make it right. It’s difficult to think that just a year or so ago you were a random kid from Queens when you mean... when you mean a heck of a lot to me now. This will never happen again. So I need – I need to go and make this right. Sorry I have to go but I have work to do.”

 

“I hope you’re okay. Please be okay.”

 

Tony left in a hurry as though he was anxious that he’d said the wrong thing. Peter could tell he had been wanting to say that for a while now; Tony been looking at him differently since Peter had turned but he had been waiting for the right moment to say something.

 

Peter had known Tony for a while now so he knew speeches like that were short and rare – in fact he was honoured Tony had said anything at all. 

 

There was a serious lacking in male role models in Peter’s life. Tony Stark had always been a hero to Peter but since he’d gotten to know him better, he had thought of him more as a father figure. It meant more that Peter could ever put into words to know that Tony thought of him almost as a son.

 

It was then he noticed that the archer next to him was no longer asleep. Peter wondered how much of that he had heard.

 

“He’s right.” Clint began, “This should never have happened to you. But I’m glad I got to know you. I don’t know what street corner Tony picked you up from but I’m glad he did. You’re really something kid. Now get some rest, you’ve been through a lot.”

 

With a final affectionate nod, Clint left leaving Peter on his own again.

 

He was so lost in his thoughts after everything that had been said, that he didn’t even notice when he drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well guys I reckon we're nearing the end of this pretty soon. I think that there will be about two more chapters yet (full of some Peter & Shuri interaction) and then I might end it.
> 
> The response on this has been amazing as always and I love you all very much.
> 
> Thank you for reading ; )


	14. Mr black panther sir

“Good morning y-your Highness king t’challa...Mr black panther, sir.” Peter stuttered awkwardly with a half bow. Great! He’d made a prat of himself in front of a bloody king.

 

T’challa gave a small chuckle which he held in pretty well in an attempt to save the boy any further embarrassment. Shuri, however, was not fairing as well. She let out an unrestrained giggle at his awkward introduction and she was laughing so hard, tears had began rolling down her cheeks.

 

After a few seconds and a stern glare from her brother, she had mostly regained her composure but was still biting back a grin

 

With a fond smile he spoke to Peter. “Please Mr Parker, just call me T’challa. There’s no need to bow, we don’t do that here.”

 

Peter’s cheeks had flushed red with embarrassment and he directed his eyes towards the floor at his shoes.  
“Brother, I’m going to show our guest around, maybe do some work in the lab for a bit.”

 

“Don’t wear the boy out Shuri. And please, please stay out of trouble. I won’t be here today to clean up after you.”

 

“Don’t I always?” She asked rhetorically, feigning innocence.

 

The king just met her eyes with a disproving glare and a single eyebrow raised. Smiling sweetly back, she dragged Peter away with her and they left the room leaving behind an exasperated black panther.

 

An excited Shuri dragged a mostly confused Peter around a series of corridors and rooms until they reached a balcony overlooking all of Wakanda.

 

The view was breath taking. Absolutely stunning.

 

As Peter was looking out, immersed in the incredible landscape, Shuri spoke up behind him.

 

“Hi, welcome to Chilli’s.”

 

Peter smiled. Genuinely smiled. Shuri sure-I was awesome. Peter hated how much he loved that pun.

 

“Okay spider boy, we have like a whole day to ourselves; my brother dearest and Stark are in meetings in New York all day to discuss new accords, and all of your other avenger friends are off places being adults. Where do you want to start?”

 

•●••●•●•●••●•●•●•

 

Two hours later and Peter found himself running frantically around a quiet street as Shuri was counting back from five.

 

“Come on Parker!” she laughed.

 

Seeing no other option and after a few failed attempts at trying to find something suitable to stand on, he flung himself at a wall with just one second to spare and firmly stuck his feet to it.

 

“Not fair!” she complained, “you cheated!”

 

“Hey!” He shot back, “there isn’t any explicit rules against that. You counted back from 5 and I’m not touching the ground therefore I win.” 

 

They had been playing the floor is lava for a couple of rounds and the competition had been pretty stiff so far. Peter was yet to lose a round. Shuri however had only really lost once: they were ambling across some large courtyard as a rather fierce looking warrior was walking past when Peter said it. Being in an open space with nothing to hold on to she shouted at the women, “Okoye, catch me!” and planted herself in her arms. After a second, Okoye dropped her just as Peter finished counting down which technically meant she lost. It was incredibly funny to watch though.

 

Time just seemed to fly by when the two of them were together – she could never replace Ned of course but it was a nice change of pace rather than being around adults all of the time. Before they knew it they had to head back to find some lunch before they made plans to spend the afternoon in the lab. 

 

It was there they met Captain America, Wanda, vision, and black widow who appeared to all be spending the day together as well.

 

“Who want lasagne?” Shuri shouted as she entered the room, causing the others to all look up from where they were sat. They all looked very confused (especially Steve and vision).

 

In the end, they both just made sandwiches and went to sit with the others. Everyone sat around and talked for a bit about their days – boring adult conversation.

 

Shuri decided things needed spicing up a bit so screamed loudly in Peter’s ear completely unprovoked. She just liked seeing people's reactions.

 

Everyone seemed to jump at the disruption (except for Nat who had somehow managed to hardly even flinch) but Peter screamed loudly back, fumbling with his food.

 

Shuri laughed but Peter just hit her lightly on the arm.  
“Stop!” he shouted at Shuri, “ I could’ve dropped my croissant.” As he finished speaking, he too burst into laughter leaving four confused avengers and two excitable teenagers laughing so hard their sides were aching.

 

“Peter, that is a sandwich.” Vision interrupted sounding almost concerned. This however only proceeded to make the pair laugh even harder.

 

“Are you feeling okay? Maybe you should get checked out...” Steve said mimicking Vision’s concerned tone.

 

“Yeah, yeah you should get checked out Peter!” Shuri announced through howls of laughter and tears streaming down her cheeks. 

 

After a minute or so more, the two teens calmed down and howling laughter had just been replaced by amused grins and small outbursts of chuckles. Peter assured everyone he was fine as they still looked a bit worried but the avengers knew better than to ask any further. They really didn’t want to know.

 

“Come on lazy bones, if we sit here we’ll never get anything done.” Shuri extended a hand to pull Peter up and they both headed down to the lab together.

 

The lab literally got better every time Peter saw it. He thought Tony’s was incredible but this – this was on a whole other level. The technology was off the hook crazy.

 

“So Shuri, what are we going to do?” 

 

“Do you like star wars?” Peter nodded his head vigorously. He fucking loved star wars and he loved even more where this was heading.

 

“I have an idea...”

 

•●•●•●•●•●•

 

That was how Tony found them, just gone midnight when he had returned to Wakanda and went to check on Peter only to find he was still in the lab.

 

All the lights were off and everything was dark. That was weird.

 

Before he had time to question it, a battle cry was heard from the ceiling and Peter jumped down brandishing a red glowing stick. Out of the shadows, another figure emerged with a matching blue one and they proceeded to battle each other like knights sword fighting.

 

They both had landed a few blows each before Tony decided enough was enough. He headed over to the wall and flicked on the light switch, causing both the teens to startle.

 

Shuri was wearing a black hood and Peter had some kind of battle face paint on; god they were dorks.

 

Just as the lights had sprung to life, Shuri gained the upper hand and pressed the tip of her light saber into Peter’s chest. She cheered and Peer sighed.

 

“Having fun?” Tony asked sarcastically. 

 

“Oh hey Mr Stark!” Peter laughed nervously attempting to poorly conceal the light sabers behind his back so as not to make it look like he was as nerdy as he appeared. He wanted to look cool in front of Mr Stark but Tony knew him better than to expect anything less. He just shot him a disapproving eye brow raise in return.

 

“I thought you weren’t coming back till tomorrow.” Peter replied continued.

 

“It’s is tomorrow you Idjit.” Both Peter and Shuri looked a little surprised at that. “Come on Peter, you’re still recovering from some serious injuries. You need rest.”

 

Peter simply mumbled only realising now how tired he actually was and said a quick goodnight to Shuri before ambling out the door.

 

Shuri picked up the light sabers from the floor and rearranged the lab back to how it looked before. Tony picked up one of the weapons of the floor and studied it carefully.

 

“Is this a electromagnetic plasma blade attached to a vibranium processor and powered by-”

 

“A quad strength titanium core.”

 

“-A quad strength titanium core.”

 

They both finished at the same time. Shuri eyed him up and Tony nodded his head in approval.

 

“But how did you manage to stabilise the processor? With a core that powerful it should have burnt right through. I’ve never seen it done before on this scale, it’s damn near impossible.”

 

“I know.”

 

“This is incredible.”

 

“I know.”

 

Tony could absolutely see why the two teens got on. Excitable, intelligent, nerdy as Fuck. Yep, they were the perfect pair. And she was confident, it reminded Tony of himself at that age. She was destined to do great things.

 

And so was Peter, if he ever managed to stop getting himself into trouble. 

 

Getting the duo to be friends was easy, it would be trying to split them up where the challenges lie. 

 

Tony could already feel the grey hairs coming through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the chapter I realised I literally know nothing about Wakanda...
> 
> This one's just a bit of fun because I just love Peter and Shuri so fucking much. Coming to the end of this soon : ( 
> 
> Thanks to all of your comments, you guys are the best xx


	15. This is the end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been like a month (whoops)

Peter woke suddenly and with an intense gasp for air. As he sat up abruptly in his bed, he tried to even out his shaky and shallow breathing until it eventually returned to a good rhythm. Almost instantly, relief flooded over him as he wiped his sweaty brow with the back of his hand.

 

It was just a dream.

 

It was always just a dream. It had just been a dream for two weeks now. For two weeks he’d been safe in Wakanda yet every night his mind had convinced itself that Peter had never left the hell hole

 

Shakily, he planted his feet on the floor and rested his head in his hands. Recently, this was how all his mornings had started. Checking his watch, he realised it would still be a few hours before any one expected the teenager to be up yet. Usually he just hung around in his room for a while, it wasn’t much use trying to fall asleep again.

 

It wasn’t as though he wasn’t getting enough sleep – perhaps not as much as he would like but enough to keep him going. Besides, he didn’t really want to bother any one else with his inconsequential problems – everyone else had much bigger fish to fry.

 

With people in and out of meetings, signing important documents, and some negotiations with governments all over the world, people never really stopped to just have friendly conversation any more. Mostly, Peter just hung out with Shuri. It was nice to be around someone his own age again and she was good at making Peter forget about things that were worrying him.

 

She wasn’t like May though.

 

May who could calm him down after a nightmare, who would run her fingers through his hair. May who would listen to him no matter what and take the time to ask how his day had been. Wherever May was felt like home.

 

Peter hasn’t seen her in months.

 

For her own safety and Peter’s protection she hadn’t been allowed to go to Wakanda. They had however, been given one short phone call between the pair on a secure line (but it was mostly just them crying on the phone – elated just to hear the other’s voice).

 

For a while Peter milled around, doing nothing in particular except playing some games by himself and looking at memes on a phone he’d been given. It was quiet.

 

For the rest of the day, Peter and Shuri were just dorking around in the lab (where Peter seemed to spend the majority of his time).

 

If there was one thing Peter would miss about the whole ordeal when he got home it would definitely be the Wakandian tech. (And also Shuri – the pair had gotten very close. Together they were the “Supreme Meme Dream Team”.)

 

They were in the lab when they got the news.

 

Wanda called the pair up to sit with all of the other avengers around a large TV. The news cut to a live feed of Tony shaking hands with some other men in suits over some thick documents of paper. Tony looked down exhausted but Incredibly happy – that could only mean one thing.

 

“A new draft of the Sokovia accords – those designed to keep control of vigilantes across the globe – has been agreed on today,” the news anchor began, “finalised in the early hours of the morning, the new rules decree that the likes of notorious hero Captain America and other members of his team shall no longer be classed as fugitive criminals.”

 

Peter was in shock. In awe. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Weeks of being locked away and in hiding were over. 

 

Wanda ran up behind him and embraced him in a back breaking hug with such strength he was almost lifted of the ground. Everyone cheered and looked around, relieved to finally be free. Clint and Sam patted him on the back as a form of congratulations and then they just stood and talked for a bit.

 

It was as though the thick tension like an impenetrable fog that had pestered the group for many days had finally been lifted. People were laughing together, smiling. After everything they had been through, this was it.

 

No more being locked away, no more being scared or trapped. This was freedom, and it felt good.

 

The next few hours saw the large group of assorted heroes milling around, congratulating each other on their newfound freedom.

 

Scott and Clint had both made plans to get home to their families as soon as possible. Peter thought it was cute seeing how excited they were. Then again, he felt exactly the same way about finally seeing May, Ned, and MJ after want felt like eons apart.

 

After the excited atmosphere had finally died down a bit, the party of superheroes headed their separate ways to gather whatever belongings they had and to say their goodbyes. 

 

Since Peter had pretty much come with nothing, he had plenty of time to sit with Shuri in the lab.  
She was waiting for him when he arrived. 

 

“Congratulations spidey. Looks like someone’s heading home and leaving me all on my own.”

 

Peter laughed, he knew there was no actual anger in her words.

 

“I never knew you cared.” Peter joked back. “Give me your phone number and we can still talk though.”

 

Shuri scoffed. “phone number? You heathen. I have something much better, follow me.”

 

She led him to a work bench with a small package placed neatly on top. “Consider it a going away present.” She exclaimed giving it to him.

 

Cautiously, Peter unwrapped the gift – half expecting it all to be a prank – only to find it was a slim black bracelet. 

 

“I’m not sure your aunt would approve of me giving you a lightsaber but I thought this might be just as good.”  
Peter placed it on his wrist as Shuri continued to explain.

 

“It’s basically just a nifty little communicator but I also put some games on their too because I know you have the attention span of a goldfish.”

 

Peter pressed a button on the side causing a hologram to flicker to life like the home screen of a phone.  
“I would walk you through it but to be fair even my brother could probably work out to use it. I’m sure a nerd like you will be fine.”

 

He thanked her profusely and gave her a quick hug before she could protest. Together they headed back up to the launch area that they were due to leave from where they met the other avengers and unofficial tag-alongs.

 

With some final goodbyes and thankyou’s to the people of Wakanda, they boarded the jet and began the long journey home.

 

With the feeling of freedom overcoming his mind, Peter fell deeply asleep.

 

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○

 

When Peter woke again, it was to the gentle feeling of Sam shaking his shoulders.

 

“We’re back kiddo.”

 

Peter groggily rubbed his eyes and followed the other avengers off the jet and into the compound. There he was greeted by people looking with anxious eyes – some he knew and some he didn’t.

 

Pepper was stood at the front but bustling her way forwards was someone who made Peter’s heart skip a beat. Without any further hesitation, Peter ran like he never had before straight into the arms of Aunt May

 

Aunt May who he hadn’t seen in pretty much a lifetime.  
She wrapped her arms around him and ran her gentle fingers through his hair, whispering a mantra of: “I love you so so so much!”

 

“I love you more.” Peter whispered back intro her hair.

 

This was it. He was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this is it. I'm kind of sad to see it finished but it has been a pleasure to right.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has stuck right through to the end despite some awful writing and major plot holes! Thank you especially to everyone who has left a comment reading them means the absolute world to me. Some special mentions go to:
> 
> GreenhouseNurse (the brains behind the Supreme Meme Dream Team)
> 
> Just_Havoc
> 
> Audsome6082
> 
> ICurlyHead
> 
> Kaden (koverstreet)
> 
> But to name a few. Once again, thank you for reading : )

**Author's Note:**

> I am going to write more for this but I'm not super good with schedules. Please comment and let me know what you thought because they inspire me to write more.


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